Astral
by foolondahill17
Summary: "You know what side we're on, right, Tori?" Astoria returns to Hogwarts for her second year and confronts the dark secrets of her past. Against the backdrop of the Triwizard Tournament and the looming second war, Astoria sets out to connect the pieces and stumbles upon a bit of self-discovery. The unknown tale of Astoria Greengrass – book two in the Of the Stars series
1. Of Riots and Return Journeys

Title: Astral

Summary: "You know what side we're on, right, Tori?" Astoria returns to Hogwarts for her second year and confronts the dark secrets of her past. Against the backdrop of the Triwizard Tournament and the looming second war, Astoria sets out to connect the pieces and stumbles upon a bit of self-discovery. The unknown tale of Astoria Greengrass – book two in the Of the Stars series

Rated: K+, for mild angst and minor character death

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

Author's Note: This is a sequel to _Luminescence_, which relates Astoria Greengrass' first year at Hogwarts. For those who are interested, you can find it on my profile, but please don't feel that it's required.

I am posting this against my better judgment as I don't have much of the rest written and I'm afraid that could lead to updating delays in the future. Hopefully not, but be warned.

* * *

Astral

Of the Stars, Year Two

Chapter One – Of Riots and Return Journeys:

"Hurry up, Tori."

Daphne's fingers were entwined around Astoria's wrist, slipping because of sweat but insistent.

Rebounding flashes of light, pounding footsteps, and screams followed them. There was a note of panic in Daphne's voice, something Astoria had never heard before. Daphne was usually so calm, so icily collected like their mother.

Astoria's heart was pulsing in her throat, making it difficult to breathe. Her chest was constricted.

Her Aunt's voice echoed in her mind _go up into the woods. Stay out of sight. Your uncle or myself will find you when it's safe._

Implying this wasn't safe. Implying hide because you might be hurt.

Orange light sprung up behind them, casting flickering shadows onto the face of the forest. Fire. Some of the tents were on fire. Astoria wildly thought of their tent, the one with sign marked _Lelantos_ out front saying it belonged to her uncle. She thought of Aunt Aquila and Uncle Varro and those – those people who were inciting the riot, and – and….

Astoria's toe caught on a protruding root and before she knew what had happened her knees scraped painfully against the ground. She heard her voice leave her lips in a scream as Daphne's fingers were wrenched free of hers.

"_Daphne_ –_!_" what was Astoria supposed to do. She couldn't think. Everything around her was dark except for the flashing multicolored lights. People were running. People were yelling. People were shooting spells at random. People were setting fire to tents –

"Astoria! Hurry _up_!" Daphne hands caught under Astoria's armpits and hauled her to her feet.

Astoria tripped forward, guided once again by the sharp pressure of Daphne's hand around her wrist. She ran until she couldn't breathe. Her legs flew up wildly behind her, kicking up mud and dirt that hit her in the back of the head. It was so funny that little details like that kept emerging from the tangle of darkness and panic.

Astoria could feel sweat dribbling down her back. She could hear Daphne's ragged breathing beside her. She caught a glimpse of swirling brown hair, and a tripping smaller figure as a mother and her son overtook the sisters.

They broke through the barrier of the wood and suddenly twigs and leaves were slapping their faces and grasping at their pajama sleeves. Daphne dragged Astoria further onward, dodging tree trunks that materialized out of the darkness.

This was not supposed to have happened. This could not be happening. It wasn't fair. This was supposed to be an exciting, surprise getaway with her aunt, uncle, and sister. It was supposed to have been _fun_.

Astoria tripped over another root but this time Daphne saved her from falling. Their pace was slowing now, finally Daphne staggered to a halt with her back against a tree. She released Astoria and hugged her arms around her chest, gasping to catch her breath.

Astoria leaned against another tree, feeling as if her legs had turned to jelly. She half-wondered if she should sink to the ground, or if Daphne would yell at her for getting her pajamas dirty.

Astoria could still hear the crashes and yelling that was the riot in the campsite behind them. She could no longer see anything for the trees that obscured her view. In the darkness around her she could hear other people who'd taken shelter in the wood. Occasionally she caught sight of a glint of an eye or a flash of light from a lumos-tipped wand.

"I – think – we're far enough – in," gasped Daphne through large, gulping lungful's of air.

Astoria had trouble gathering her thoughts. Everything had happened so quickly. One moment she had been discussing the match with her aunt and uncle, another moment and she had been climbing into bed, and the next she was being hastily roused by Aunt Aquila and told to stay close to Daphne and make her way to the wood. That had been when she'd become aware that the campsite outside their tent was not at all how it was supposed to be. People had been running and shrieking, and all the flashing lights, and pounding footsteps –

"Daphne, what _was_ that?" Astoria realized she was shaking. She pushed a lock of her dirty-blond hair behind her ear, trying to control the trembling in her fingers.

"I don't know," Daphne's voice did not sound like Daphne's voice. She sounded tight and panicky, as if she too was trembling. "Just – just some people who had too much to drink…."

"They – they were all marching forward like – like they were organized –"

"They were just some drunks, Astoria. I'm sure it."

"They were wearing masks," Astoria felt her throat close, as if it was unwilling to let her words come up. She felt sick, a feeling she got when she had run too fast for too long. But she suspected it had something more to do with it than that.

Daphne didn't answer. She brushed her hair out of her eyes.

It was just cold enough that Astoria's breath fogged in the air outside her lips. She watched the vapor rise in front of her face and dissipate into the night air. Daphne did not speak. Astoria could hear the frantic muttering of people around her, doing headcounts and asking if everyone was alright.

Slowly Astoria's heart ceased to beat quite so insistently in her chest. She wondered where Aunt Aquila and Uncle Varro were. She wondered if they had gone to help stop the riot…or whatever it had been.

Astoria shivered when she remembered the gleam of silver she had seen amongst the wall of confusion. For a moment she had thought she was looking at a human skull, before she realized it was only a twisted replica – a mask to hide whomever was part of the riot.

Her stomach roiled. For a moment she thought she was going to throw up. She focused on filling her lungs with air, large breaths to calm herself, get a hold on herself.

She had never seen masks like that before, but she had heard of them.

"I didn't want to come to this stupid match anyway," said Daphne. Astoria could tell her sister's teeth were chattering.

"No one forced you to come," snapped Astoria. She wondered why she had. Something about Daphne's tone, when Astoria was still feeling so frantic, and shivery, and confused, had rubbed her the wrong way.

"And no one _asked you_," Daphne retorted.

Astoria almost had to physically bite her tongue in order to suppress her angry reply. Not now, when they were hidden in a dark wood, lost to what was happening on the campsite, woken in the middle of the night and wearing pajamas.

Astoria crossed her arms, trying to rub warmth back into her arms.

"You're not scared, are you?"

Something in Daphne's voice sounded like a sneer.

"No," said Astoria quickly. Of course she wasn't _scared_. She didn't know what was happening. She wanted her aunt and uncle to find them. She wanted to go home. She wanted to get back to bed. But she wasn't _scared_.

"You'd better not be scared," leered a voice from the darkness. Astoria jumped, her back hitting a tree. A thin boy with ratty, dust-brown hair, came into the clearing. He was wearing a smirk and robes instead of pajamas.

"Theo!" Daphne squealed, her voice half-excited, half-alarmed at his sudden appearance.

"Hello, Daphne, thought it was your voice I heard."

Astoria tried to quiet the thumping of her heart. It was Theodor Nott – Astoria knew all about Theodor Nott. Daphne's…friend.

She felt a sudden rush of heat in her cheeks that was not from embarrassment, but more like anger. He hadn't any right to barge in on them like he did.

"I didn't know you were at the match," said Daphne. She sounded half-disappointed, half-accusatory, as if she was annoyed at him for not letting her know.

"I didn't know _you_ were here," he said. Astoria saw him shrug his shoulders through the poor lighting.

"My uncle surprised us with tickets," said Daphne. "He was planning on going with people from work but my aunt made him take us instead."

Theodore Nott, from the expression on his face that Astoria could see through the darkness, looked thoroughly unconcerned. Theodore Nott did not have a very nice face, from what Astoria could see of it. It was thin and pale, and the shadows only served to make his nose point out further, and eyes look beadier and more deep-set.

Astoria didn't know what Daphne saw in him.

"Anyway," he continued, "_you_ don't have to be afraid. They're not after purebloods."

"You know who they are?" said Astoria before she could stop herself. It wasn't her place – but she wanted to _know_.

Nott turned his face toward hers. She could tell he rose his eyebrows because the shadows covering his eyes grew longer. "You don't?" he sneered. "Who are you, anyway –"

"Oh, that's just my little sister," said Daphne hastily, as if she longed to push Astoria into a corner. "Tori."

The corner of his lip quirked but he didn't greet Astoria. Astoria wondered if he was laughing at her and felt her cheeks burn hotter – still anger. She wasn't embarrassed. She refused to be embarrassed.

"She isn't Hogwarts age, is she?" he asked. "I haven't seen her in Slytherin."

They needn't talk about her as if Astoria wasn't standing _right there_.

"Oh no," Daphne voice sounded rushed, shamefaced, "she's in Ravenclaw."

"Oh," said Nott, and nothing else. His lip was still quirked.

Astoria focused on breathing through her nose, focused on not inching her fingers toward her wand – but then she realized she had left her wand at home. After all, she wasn't allowed to use magic outside of school – without her mother's supervision, that is – so what was the point of carrying it, anyway.

But suddenly she felt horribly defenseless and vulnerable without it, given what had happened. Not as if she could have done anything to protect herself, anyway. She only had a first-years' magical education and that wouldn't do much good against drunken curses, and rioters.

Daphne and Nott were discussing other things. Astoria turned away and stared spitefully into the darkness toward the campsite, trying to see anything that was happening.

Merlin, if Daphne and Theodore Nott ever decided to get married, Astoria would not come to the wedding. She suppressed a shiver. What a horrid brother-in-law.

_Daphne Nott_, what a stupid name.

"Have you heard what's happening at Hogwarts this year?" said Nott's voice behind Astoria.

Daphne hesitated. Immediately Astoria discerned that Daphne did _not_ know, but was unwilling to admit it.

"Erm – I don't know, exactly…."

"Dad told me," said Nott triumphantly. "He works in the IMC, so of course he knows all about it."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah. I don't suppose I'm really allowed to tell you if you don't know…."

"But I know _a little_ about it."

"Well, maybe it wouldn't hurt to tell you. If you promised not to tell anyone else. It's top secret –"

Unconsciously, Astoria had turned her head slightly so she could hear better.

"I promise. I won't tell a soul."

"Good, in that case –"

Just at that moment there was a resounding crack, and a rush that sounded like wind. Suddenly the wood was bathed in green light. Astoria felt her heart patter in alarm as she looked through the tree branches above her, trying to get a good look at the sky.

Something glowing and colored a poisonous green was hovering above the wood to the other side of the campsite. Astoria closed one eye to try to discern its shape. She thought of the Irish team's leprechauns – the ones who had performed before the match. She wondered if this whole thing, the riot and the drunken, masked people were all some kind of wild prank to celebrate their win….

She caught sight of a skull-like form, and a winding a tongue that was a writhing serpent –

Daphne screamed. Astoria jumped so violently she tripped over her heel and landed hard on the ground. She looked quickly over her shoulder, heart slamming against her ribs. She hadn't even thought to ask Daphne what was wrong. More screams were echoing throughout the wood.

Daphne had covered her face with her hands. She was shaking all over and leaning against a tree for support. Beside her, Nott was unmoved. He stared at the glowing ornament in the sky, which illuminated his face with a sickly green and glinted in his eyes. He looked enthralled.

Astoria eyes threw themselves back to the green skull hanging in the sky. She felt her stomach clench. Something swam hazily in her mind, a recollection from her childhood, something that was important but that Astoria couldn't remember.

It – that – the skull meant something. She knew it.

Daphne's scream seemed to echo in Astoria's skull. Even though she didn't know why she should, Astoria shrank from the skull. It was ugly, terrible looking, surely spoke something of death –

"Daphne! Astoria!" she heard the shouts in the back of her mind but did nothing to acknowledge them. She had thoughts only for the glowing figure in the sky, erasing the stars with its brilliance.

"Daphne! Astoria!" the shouts were getting closer and more insistent.

"Aunt Aquila!" Daphne's voice was piercing and shaky. She sounded panicked, frantic, frightened…Astoria looked back to her sister to see if it was really Daphne whom spoke. "We're over here!"

There was the sound of crashing underbrush and Aunt Aquila suddenly emerged from the trees. She rushed to embrace Daphne. "Oh _dears_!" Astoria's aunt was even paler than Daphne. She seemed to glow in the darkness. She was trembling so hard she made Daphne vibrate in her arms. "Are you alright? You aren't hurt? I was so _worried_ –"

"I'm fine," whispered Daphne tremulously. She pointed a shaking figure over her aunt's shoulder to the skull over the trees. "Aunt Aquila, we – have to get out –"

"Don't look at it, dear. You're alright. You're safe."

"What is it?" the voice leapt unannounced from Astoria's lips. She chided herself. Now was not the time to ask questions. Besides, she did not know that she wanted to know the answer.

Her aunt released Daphne and flew to embrace Astoria, pulling her up off the ground and wrapping her arms tightly around her waist. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Astoria answered. "What is it?"

"It's the Dark Mark," hissed a voice behind her. Astoria jumped and turned around, but recognized her uncle almost immediately. His face was waxy looking. Beads of sweat rolled off his large, hooked nose. Astoria had never imagined her uncle could look frightened. The sight unnerved her almost more than anything else that had happened that night.

The Dark Mark. She felt gooseflesh erupt over her arms. She had heard of it. She had never seen it before but – of course – the Dark Mark. How could it have been anything else?

It was You-Know-Who's mark, left by him or his followers when there had been murder…. Astoria remembered the marching cloaked figures with the silver, skull-like masks. They had been shooting spells, setting fire to tents – Astoria thought she might be sick again.

"We need to leave," said Uncle Varro, his voice tight.

"Did you – help sort all that out, at the campsite?" said Astoria. She wondered how she could continue to ask questions, even now when her mind was racing, wind roaring in her ears, thoughts ricocheting off the walls of her skull. She supposed it was a natural tendency, born of being a Ravenclaw.

"No," said Uncle Varro brusquely. "I collected our things and then we came to get you. I hadn't meant for you girls to run quite so far into the wood."

"It's lucky you did," said Aunt Aquila. She'd released Astoria and was wiping her eyes with shaking hands. She was trying to avoid looking at the Dark Mark as though even staring at it might cause physical harm. "I can't imagine what Lyra would say if one of who had gotten hurt under my watch."

"Come along," said Uncle Varro. He wrapped his fingers tightly around Astoria's wrist and pulled her to his side. Aunt Aquila got hold of Daphne. "Let's get out of here."

Astoria could not have agreed more. He twisted sharply and the wood around them dissolved into a swirl of color and sound. She had forgotten about Theodore Nott, whom was left standing in the clearing, basking in the glow of the Mark.

* * *

Astoria closed her eyes and opened them a moment later as she rushed through the barrier between the Muggle world and Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Her cart rattled in front of her. She heard a scrape of wheels against stone as Daphne appeared, pushing her own cart.

"You'll be sure to be good this year?" said their mother, Lyra Greengrass, over her shoulder.

"Yes, Mum,"

"And you'll be careful?"

Astoria answered in unison with Daphne. "Yes, Mum."

"And you'll write?"

"Yes, Mum."

"And you'll do well in class?"

"_Yes_, Mum," said Daphne. Astoria couldn't see her sister roll her eyes, but she could hear it in her voice.

Lyra Greengrass came to a halt and surveyed her daughters, eyes slightly narrowed but smiling. "Good. Daphne make sure to keep an eye on Tori?"

"_Mum_," protested Astoria, joined in a chorus with Daphne.

Her mother laughed, a short, brusque thing that she had perfected through years of a personal business-first policy. She curtly wrapped one arm around Astoria's shoulders, "Love you, dear, have fun this year. I'm sure you will."

"Oh, that reminds me," Daphne said, "Theo was saying something about it at the World Cup. Is there anything special happening at Hogwarts this year? He said his father said…."

"I'm really not allowed to tell you," her mother intercepted.

"Mum," Daphne wined, "you've never cared about stupid regulations like that before –"

"I care when we're in a public place like this, Daphne," said Lyra Greengrass, roving the platform with her eyes. Astoria watched the other clustered families littered about the station. She felt her stomach fall in disappointed. She had wanted to hear what it was that was happening at Hogwarts.

"Besides," their mother continued, hugging Daphne good-bye in turn, "you'll find out soon enough."

"Then there is something happening?"

"Aren't you the shrewd little Slytherin?" said Lyra Greengrass, almost rolling her eyes in a move that would look very much like Daphne. "Yes, dear, there _is_ something happening at Hogwarts this year."

Daphne pouted but didn't say anything. Clearly she had realized it wasn't wise to press the issue. Their mother finished with saying her farewells and Astoria and Daphne headed toward the Hogwarts Express. Daphne ran off to find her friends before the sisters boarded, something Astoria was grateful for.

Astoria did not want Daphne present when Astoria met her friends because one of those friends was a Muggle-born. Astoria had met Sara Hibburt the year before. At first Astoria had thought Sara was an annoying, ignorant, clingy little girl. They had fought, ignored each other, and then, wonder-of-wonders, somehow made up and become friends. Astoria had even managed to look past the fact that Sara was a Muggle-born and Astoria, herself, was pureblood.

Daphne hadn't.

Their mother didn't know. But if she did, Astoria was certain her mother would not be able to look past the fact, either.

Astoria had been able to gloss over her friendship with Sara over the summer; it wasn't as though her mother confiscated her mail, after all. She felt slightly bad about deceiving her mother. It wasn't something she normally did. She didn't want Lyra Greengrass to know her youngest daughter had been lying to her, had been hiding things behind her back, had befriended a Muggle-born….

Astoria dragged her trunk into a compartment and set out to search for familiar faces. Her stomach was squirming with a mixture of guilt and fear. She unconsciously glanced out the windows as she passed, looking to see if her mother was still on the station.

"Astoria!"

Astoria turned at the sound of her name and smiled, recognizing immediately the girl who wove her way through the cluster of older students in the hallways. She was sweating and breathing hard, dragging her trunk behind her.

"I'm so happy I found you," said Melissa Jordan nervously, pulling up next to Astoria. "Where are you sitting? I didn't know where to go. I haven't found Sara yet but needed to put down my trunk…."

Rarely had Astoria heard Melissa talk so much. She was a shy, jittery girl whom twisted her fingers in her lap and generally stayed out of the way. She had milk chocolate skin and dark chocolate eyes and a tangle of matted black hair that was usually set in a maze of braids pulled tightly across her scalp.

"Come on," said Astoria. "I'm over this way." They made their way back through the crowded corridor. Melissa hung closely behind Astoria's shoulder, giving Astoria the impression she was hiding from something.

She was suddenly pointedly aware that it had been a whole summer since she had last seen Melissa. She didn't know quite what she was supposed to say.

"So…how was Holiday?" Astoria asked, when it became apparent that Melissa was not going to strike up a conversation. Astoria had never known Melissa to speak first.

"Alright," said Melissa, a shrug in her voice.

"What did you do?"

"I went to my grandparents for a week."

"Oh…that sounds nice."

"What did you do?"

"Nothing much," Astoria had mostly hung around her house. She had never before realized how boring home was, in contrast to the bustle of Hogwarts. She was happy to be going back. "I went to the World Cup," she added, even though she was mutually sure Melissa didn't care very much about Quidditch.

"Really?" said Melissa, "my brothers went with my dad. Mum and I stayed home, though. How was it?"

"Alright," Astoria answered. "I was disappointed with Bulgaria. The only reason they even got in was because of Krum."

"Oh…really?" said Melissa, evidently not even aware that Bulgaria had played.

They reached Astoria's compartment and Astoria helped Melissa lift her trunk onto the racks. They sat down across from each other. Astoria tried to think about what else to say. She figured that after a whole _season_ they should have plenty to catch up on.

"So," said Melissa tentatively, "were you there – at the Cup – you know, when the riot…?"

"Oh, yeah," said Astoria hastily. She felt an odd clench in her stomach at the memory. She didn't want to talk about the riot. "I was there."

"Did you see…?"

"No," Astoria lied. "My uncle and aunt apparated us away before we could."

Melissa shuddered. "It must have been terrifying."

_It had been_. But Astoria didn't tell people things like that.

There was an excessively cheerful sounding tap on the glass door.

"Sara!" cried Melissa in delight, hopping up from the bench. Astoria turned to see through the transparent sliding door. Sara Hibburt, complete with a beaming smile, slid it open and stepped into the compartment.

Sara had long brown hair, usually in a ponytail, swinging in perpetual motion as she bobbed up at down in an almost inhuman amount of enthusiasm. It spilled out of her pores. She was always smiling, always laughing, always asking questions.

"Melissa!" she shrieked, "Astoria!"

She enveloped Melissa in an embrace. Astoria only just stood up from her bench in time to have Sara's arms thrown around her in turn. Astoria was barely able to register Sara's appearance before the Muggle-born began to talk:

"It's _so_ good to see you! I missed you both so much! I'm so happy to be going back! Did you both have a good Holiday? What did you do? Mine was fantastic! It was so good being with Mum and Dad for so long. But I'm so happy to be back, now! I missed Hogwarts. Who knew someone could ever miss school?"

Melissa was laughing. Astoria felt a smile creep onto her face. Unexpectedly she didn't feel at all irritated by Sara's spiel. Unexpectedly, she felt as if she had almost missed it.

"What about you, Melissa? How was your summer?"

"It was fine –"

"And, Astoria, what about you?"

"It was alright, I guess," Astoria sat back down on the bench. Sara sat beside Melissa, hands flying in front of her as she babbled.

"Anything exciting happen? I went to the fair one weekend with my family. Then I spent a week with my grandparents. My brother and I went to see the _Lion King_ – oh, but you guys haven't hear of that, have you? It's a Disney films. It was really good."

Sara had tried unsuccessfully to explain Muggle cinema to Astoria last winter. Astoria had not been able to grasp the concept of Muggle photographs moving, like magical ones, except that they spoke and told a story and were put on a gigantic screen for Muggles to sit in front of with popcorn and fizzy soft drinks.

Astoria felt the floor of the compartment rattle and heard the whirl of the train's wheels that meant the Hogwarts Express had left the station.

"Astoria went to the Quidditch World Cup," Melissa said when Sara finally drew breath.

"Really?" said Sara, "Was it good? That would have been amazing to see."

Astoria felt her stomach squirm, a mixture of discomfort at suddenly being thrust into the spotlight, and guilt because she had also thought that perhaps Sara would have like to go. But – it wasn't as though Astoria could have brought her. Her aunt and uncle would not have allowed it. Daphne – Daphne would have been a nightmare. Her mother would have discovered Astoria was friends with a Muggle-born.

"It was alright."

"Who won?" Sara continued. "Who was even playing?"

"Ireland and Bulgaria. Ireland won."

"Did you hear about what happened afterward?" Melissa asked shyly.

"No," said Sara, turning her full, wide-eyed enthusiasm on Melissa. "What happened?"

"It was all over the _Prophet_. There was a riot or something."

"Really?" said Sara. "That must have been so exciting!"

"Scary, you mean," said Melissa.

"Were you there for that, too, Astoria?" Sara asked.

Astoria shrugged. "They were just some people who had too much to drink while celebrating. It wasn't a big deal."

"What about the – the Dark Mark?" Melissa whispered.

"What's a Dark Mark?"

Astoria did not want to talk about this. Mercifully there was another knock on the door. Astoria turned and felt her stomach plummet.

"_Stephan_!" Sara shrieked. She jumped up and flung open the door. She hurled herself at the first of the two boys who stood in the doorway and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist. Over Sara's shoulder, Astoria saw Stephan Edgecombe's face turn slightly pink.

"Hi, Sara, it's nice to see you, too," he said, almost breathlessly from how tightly Sara was squeezing his chest. His eyes roved the compartment and fell on Astoria. His face darkened. Astoria glared right back.

Astoria did not like Stephan Edgecombe and he did not like her. It had started last year after she and Sara had become friends. He had come up to her once and told her that he did not trust her, because she was pureblood and Sara was Muggle-born and surely Astoria had ulterior motives. _Ulterior motives!_

Well, Astoria hadn't any ulterior motives and Stephan Edgecombe hadn't any right to think so.

Stephan tore his gaze away from Astoria's and back to Sara, whom was talking again:

"It's been so long! I've missed you so much! But I was so happy each time I got one of your letters! How are you! Oh – hi, Mark, I didn't even notice you!" Sara addressed the second of the boys, Mark Clearwater, whom stood behind Stephan.

He smiled and said to them all, "Hey. Summer went well?"

"More than well," said Sara. "How was yours?"

Mark shrugged. "Okay, I guess. Stephan and I went to the Cup together."

"Really?" said Sara brightly. "Astoria went to the Cup, too. We were all just talking about it."

Clearly Sara had a poor memory, and did not recall that when Stephan Edgecombe was present, Astoria would rather be kept out of it – lest he got the wrong impression that she was talking to _him_.

"We were discussing the riot," Sara continued, "Did you both see it?"

"Yeah," said Mark, "It was awesome. Everyone was panicking and tents were blowing up –"

"It wasn't awesome," Stephan snapped, clearly his aggression was not directed at Mark, but at the presence of Astoria. She felt herself frown at him. "People were torturing Muggles."

Sara's face fell, "That – that's terrible. I didn't know that."

"It's not true," Astoria heard her voice leave her lips before she could stop it. "It's just another one of the rumors flying around – like people had been killed. It's all ridiculous. No one was hurt."

"Of course someone was killed," Stephan sneered, "Didn't you see the Dark Mark? But of course you probably weren't even there –"

"Of course I was there!" Astoria felt angry, boiling blood pound in her head. "It wasn't so scary."

"I never said it was scary," Stephan snapped. "I wasn't _scared_."

"Yes, well _I_ wasn't either," Astoria crossed her arms over her chest. She wished she could bore fiery, melting holes into his head just by glaring.

Sara looked from Stephan to Astoria unhappily. Mark hovered behind Stephan anxiously, as though waiting to see if he should have to intervene. As ever, Melissa had melted into the background, looking worried and biting her nails.

"Come on, Stephan," Mark mumbled, "Let's go back to the compartment. It was nice seeing you all –"

"Yeah," Stephan said nastily, not taking his eyes off Astoria. "I didn't realize _she_ was here when I came in." Mark immediately looked anxious, clearing trying to convey that hadn't been what he meant.

Astoria felt Stephan's words rebound off of her, as if she was wearing a chest plate. She had ceased to be hurt by Stephan's words, but wondered if she might still hurt him.

"No one asked you to come bother us," she said.

"Guys," said Sara, half-worried, half-exasperated. "Can you just stop it, please? I thought you'd have forgotten it all over the summer. I don't even know why you don't like each other."

Stephan blushed under Sara's chiding, but said through clenched teeth, "It doesn't concern you, Sara. See you at the feast." He and Mark left before Astoria could think up anything else to say.

An odd, pressing, uncomfortable silence descended on the compartment. Astoria sat back down when she realized she had gotten to her feet. Sara sat across from her, beside Melissa again, and frowned.

"Don't say it," Astoria warned, catching Sara's eyes and not liking the way they looked.

"Say what?" said Sara.

"That Stephan and I should just forget it and try to be friends."

"Forget what?" said Sara.

Astoria hesitated. That wasn't really in context of their conversation – "What do you mean?"

"See!" Sara replied, "even you don't know what you and Stephan are fighting about."

"He," Astoria sputtered, "he – insulted me! Besides I don't – doesn't have anything to do – I don't want to talk about it!" She folded her arms over her chest again, and fought the blush creeping up her cheeks.

Sara sighed, "Just don't pull your wands out at each other, or anything."

"He wouldn't be worth it," Astoria retorted.

"So," Melissa piped up, quietly and unexpectedly. Sara and Astoria turned to stare at her. "With Professor Lupin gone who do you think we'll get at Defense Professor?"

The question served as the distraction it was intended to be. Sara and Melissa began discussing the coming school year and after a minute Astoria joined them. She didn't want something as irritating as Stephan Edgecombe to come between _this_ friendship, after all.

* * *

Author's Note: Uhg, I hate first chapters. So much to explain and so little space to cram it all into…hopefully none of this sounded too forced.

I'll be hopefully updating sometime over the weekends, shooting for Saturday morning but there might be a couple of Friday's mixed in, as well as a Sunday or two in case I'm running late.

I hope you enjoyed this. Please drop a review if you did. Thanks!


	2. An Announcement

Author's Note: Ah, listening to the Beatles Let it Be album while I write this…amazing. Not that that had anything to do with the actually story, or anything.

Thank you for the reviews. It is very good to be back.

* * *

Chapter Two – An Announcement:

Astoria followed Sara through the towering, oak front doors of the entrance hall, hastening to get out of the torrential rain.

"I'm so happy we didn't have to cross the lake again this year –" Sara was saying, and shrieked. Astoria barely had time to register something small and blue pelting towards her, before it collided with the floor in front of her and Sara's feet. It exploded and doused the bottom of her robe and shoes with icy water.

Melissa, not realizing Astoria had come to an abrupt halt, bumped her from behind. Astoria skidded across the stone floor but caught hold of Sara's arm before she could fall.

"Ouch!" said Sara.

"Already wet, aren't they? Little squirts!" cackled the colorful, squat man floating near the ceiling: Peeves the Poltergeist, "Wheeeeeeeeee!"' he dived toward their heads, aiming another water balloon.

"Watch out!" Melissa shrieked, ducking behind Astoria's back.

The other students in the entrance hall ran to get out of the way, slipping on the sodden floor. "I shall call the Headmaster!" Professor McGonagall's voice rang out, authoritative and exasperated. Astoria had only just realized she was there. "I'm warning you Peeves –"

Peeves stuck out his tongue and threw the last balloon into the air. It splashed on a fifth-year's head and Peeves cackled, swooping away up the wide, marble stairwell and evidently thinking of more mischief.

"Well, move along, then!"' McGonagall barked to the crowd of students in the entrance hall and the others trying to press in through the doors and out of the rain. "Into the Great Hall, come on!"

Astoria let go of Sara and made her way across the hall, shoes slipping and sloshing with water. Sara and Melissa clung to each other for balance in case one should slip. They dodged the cursing fifth year, whose hair clung to his forehead from the water, and entered the Great Hall.

The Hall glowed with warmth, candlelight, and laughter. Above them the enchanted ceiling showed swirling purple clouds. Rain spattered and dripped down its slope.

"Urg!" Sara groaned, "my socks are all wet!"

So were Astoria's. She wiggled her toes and shook her feet, trying to disperse the water. In her mind she was calling Peeves all the ugly names she had ever learned.

Melissa stifled a giggle.

"There's nothing to laugh at," said Astoria. "_You_ didn't get hit."

Melissa only laughed harder, pressing her hand to her mouth. Sara undid her shoes and inspected her gray and dripping socks.

"You don't know a spell that could help, do you?" she asked Astoria. "Any sort of drying charm, or something?"

"No," Astoria replied.

"Why don't they teach us anything useful here?" Sara grumbled.

"It isn't the teaching that's useful; it would be the absorption of those things taught," said a dreamy, floating voice behind them. Astoria whirled around and her eyes fell on a thin, willowy girl with protuberant silver eyes and straggly dirty-blond hair.

"Don't you think?" said Luna Lovegood, smiling faintly.

Luna Lovegood was largely known as a girl to avoid, and Astoria accordingly did so. She had no idea what had possessed the girl to come over. Then again, Luna Lovegood had never before needed a reason. In fact, reason had very little to do with her.

"Erm – yes," said Sara, smile faltering. "I suppose that's true."

"Did you notice how wet it is in the entrance hall?" Lovegood continued. "Someone might slip if they weren't watching."

Melissa stuffed her fist in her mouth to muffle a giggle.

"I'm sorry," Lovegood added, looking from Sara to Astoria to Melissa, "was I interrupting? If I was, I can leave. I know people usually don't want me around."

"No, not at all," said Sara hastily. "You can sit with us if you'd like."

Astoria wildly began to think of some excuse – a reason that no, Luna Lovegood could _not_ sit with them, but then Lovegood replied:

"Oh thank you, I appreciate your pity. But I don't mind sitting alone. It's easier to look at people that way."

"Oh, okay…" said Sara uncertainly as Lovegood drifted away. Astoria stifled a sigh of relief. She watched as Mark and Stephan came in through doors. Astoria and Stephan exchanged scowls but he and Mark continued passed where the girls were sitting, taking benches farther down the Ravenclaw table.

Astoria felt a mingling sense of relief that she and Stephan had not had another confrontation, as well as a triumphant pull in her chest because it had been _Stephan_ to walk away – maybe she'd intimidated him.

"I think that's so sad," said Sara, staring after Luna Lovegood, who went to sit toward the end of the Ravenclaw table.

"What's sad?" said Astoria.

"That she thinks no one likes her," Sara continued, "maybe I will go sit with her –"

"No, don't," said Melissa, "the Sorting will be starting soon."

"Oh yeah," said Sara, brightening. "It'll be interesting to watch it from this end this year, won't it? Remember last year? I was so nervous."

"I thought I was going to faint. All those eyes," said Melissa, shuddering.

As if on cue the doors to the Great Hall clattered open and Professor McGonagall marched in, a trail of nervous, shivering, and dripping first-years in toe. Astoria watched them with an odd sense of nostalgia, also gratefulness that she was not now so tiny, or look quite so out-of-place.

The first-years lined up in front of the staff table, before them there was a three-legged stool, on which sat a familiar, battered old hat. Astoria had not been expecting the year before, but this time she was ready for when the large rip near the hat's brim opened like a mouth, and a song burst forth:

_A thousand years or more ago,  
When I was newly sewn,  
There lived four wizards of renown,  
Whose names are still well known:  
Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,  
Fair Ravenclaw, from glen,  
Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad,  
Shrewd Slytherin, from fen.  
They shared a wish, a hope, a dream,  
They hatched a daring plan  
To educate young sorcerers  
Thus Hogwarts School began._

The hat's voice was deep and crackly, like a warm fire. The line of first-years were staring in mute shock at it. The rest of the Hall had fallen respectfully silent.

Astoria could remember pointedly her own sorting: the sense of anticipation and nervousness. But she had also had at the time a feeling of certainty, because surely she would be sorted into Slytherin.

Her whole family had been in Slytherin. There was no other choice.

Astoria adjusted her Ravenclaw blue and bronze tie and wondered for the lack of disappointment she felt. Perhaps she had finally gotten over the divide of feeling horribly upset she hadn't gotten Slytherin and begun to feel truly like she belonged in Ravenclaw.

The Hat was finishing up:

_Now slip me snug about your ears,  
I've never yet been wrong,  
I'll have a look inside your mind  
And tell where you belong!_

"When I call out your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool," said Professor McGonagall, when the rest of the students had finished applauding the end of the song. "When the hat announces your house, you will go and sit at the appropriate table."

She straightened out the scroll of first-years' names with a flick of her wrist and called, "Ackerley, Stewart!"

The Sorting proceeded. Astoria wondered that it had not felt nearly this boring when it had been she waiting her turn. She watched as each first-year came forward and put the hat over their heads. She wondered if similar expressions had flitted across her own face: shock at hearing the hat's voice in her ear, excitement as it rattled off which house she might be suited, disappointed when it called out the one she had not expected…or perhaps she wasn't quite so transparent. Astoria liked to think so.

When the last first-year had run to the Hufflepuff table the Sorting Hat and stool were carried away and Professor Dumbledore – his long silver beard flowing down his front and his half-moon glasses resting on his crooked nose – stood and gave the assembled students a kindly smile, "I have only two words to say to you: _Tuck in._"

Sara laughed at Astoria's side and then cried in delight as the empty dishes filled with mound of food. Astoria wondered if, being a Muggle-born, the novelty of magic ever truly wore off.

"I can't believe we're back," said Sara, biting into a drumstick with one hand and scooping a lump of mashed potatoes onto her plate with the other. "Summer seemed to have passed so quickly."

"I'm happy to be back," said Melissa. "You know, besides the fact that we actually have to start school again."

"Did either of you notice the Defense Professor is missing?" Astoria asked, having glance at the Staff table and just realized the missing seat. "I wonder if Dumbledore hasn't found one yet."

"You're right," said Sara, looking over to the Staff Table herself. "He'd better find one by tomorrow."

"Maybe we just won't have Defense Against the Dark Arts this year," said Melissa hopefully.

"I'm still sad Professor Lupin won't be back," said Sara.

Astoria did not reply. Professor Lupin's departure was a touchy subject between Astoria and Sara. Professor Lupin was a _werewolf_, it was obvious he should not be living amongst healthy wizards, let alone be teaching their innocent children. Apparently Sara did not understand such views.

But she wished he wasn't a werewolf, if it only meant he might be able to return to teach.

Astoria had not realized how hungry she was before she began to eat. She, Sara, and Melissa talked and laughed with the rest of the students, the Hall buzzing with the sound of joyful chatter and clink of cutlery. The platters of food were steadily eaten away. Desserts appeared and were similarly consumed. Then the plates were swept gold and glittering, immaculate as they had been when the students had arrived.

Headmaster Dumbledore once again stood to his feet. The Hall quieted. All Astoria could hear was the storm beating against the walls of the castle and the heavy rain pattering on the roof. A crack of lightning illuminated the ceiling for a fraction of a second.

Dumbledore began, "So, now that we are all fed and watered, I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices."

Astoria leaned back in her bench and laid her hands on her stomach, wishing she hadn't eaten quite so fast or quite so quickly.

"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs," Dumbledore continued. "The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it."

Astoria had most likely heard all of this before. She pondered in a corner of her mind just what Mr. Filch – the withering, unpleasant old caretaker, usually accompanied by his dusty and wraithlike cat – would do to someone should he find them in the possession of a Fanged Frisbee.

Headmaster Dumbledore caught Astoria's attention again when he said, "It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

Astoria remembered that Mark Clearwater, Stephan's friend, would no doubt be terribly disappointed. It was Ravenclaw first-year common knowledge that Mark Clearwater would someday be the youngest Chaser on England's national team. Then Astoria remembered that she didn't talk to Mark anymore, because she didn't talk to Stephan anymore.

Dumbledore raised a hand to quiet the mutterings of outrage that had met his announcement, "This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy – but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts –"

There was an enormous clap of thunder and the doors to the Great Hall were thrown open with a resounding clang. Sara gasped in alarm. Astoria whirled in her seat to see what had happened.

Standing in the open doorway, illuminated by a flash of lightning, stood the hulking silhouette of a man. He wore a long, hefty cloak and carried a stump of a walking stick in his right hand.

The man walked through the doors with a thumping limp, apparently undeterred by the sensation he had created. Astoria gaped at him as the man stumped passed her. She heard a dull thump as he walked, and wondered if perhaps his cloak hid a false leg. His face was hidden in the shadows of the storm bathed night and flickering candled, but she could tell he was scowling. She felt a shiver run up her spine, something that told her he was watching her. He was watching everyone, ready to pounce should one of them make a false move.

When the man reached the staff table he turned to face the students and a flash of lightning cast his face into sharp relief. Sara gasped again. Astoria felt her stomach clench.

The man's face was so twisted and defaced with scars one could hardly call it a face at all. A large chunk of his nose was missing and his mouth was reduced to a frowning, misshapen slit. But the most horrifying thing about his face were his eyes. One was sharp and beady and the other a stunning blue, perfectly round and rotating continuously in its socket. First it looked to the right, then to the left, then it turned white as it stared out from the back of the man's head. Astoria immediately realized it had been that eye that had created the sense of being watched, and as well felt a rush of recognition wash over her.

She had never seen him before but often heard of him. Surely it could not be anyone else –

"Moody!" she hissed to Sara. "It's Mad-Eye Moody!"

The stranger turned around to face Dumbledore and stuck his hand out across the table. Dumbledore somberly took the man's hand in his own. The man then ambled behind the Staff Table and sat down at the empty seat directly beside the Headmaster. The empty Defense Professor's chair.

"Who?" whispered Sara back to Astoria. Astoria had almost forgotten she'd even said anything; she was so perplexed and taken aback at the man's appearance.

"Moody," she whispered back to Sara. Somehow whispering just felt more appropriate. A stunned, tense hush had descended on the hall. "He's an ex-Auror –"

"What's an Auror?" Sara interrupted.

"He's that nutter who's always imagining Dark Lords attacking him," said someone across the table.

"But what's an Auror?" Sara insisted.

"Dark wizard catcher," Astoria explained, speaking from the corner of her mouth as she stared at the man sitting at the Staff Table. He speared a sausage with a knife, sniffed at it with his mutilated nose, and stuffed it into his mouth.

"I wonder what he's doing here," said Sara.

"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" said Dumbledore's voice, cheerful, almost apologetic to break the pressing silence. "Professor Moody."

Astoria felt her lower jaw fall. First a werewolf, now this? A paranoid, crazy old codger whom had once blasted the hand off a delivery boy who'd forgotten to ring the bell? Or at least that was what the rumors told.

No one applauded Moody's admission to the Hogwart's staff except for Headmaster Dumbledore and the groundskeeper Hagrid, a monster of a man with a tangle of black hair and beard covering half his body. The sound echoed depressingly off the walls of the Hall and dispersed into the claps of thunder.

"As I was saying," began Dumbledore afresh, as if there had been no interruption, "we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century." In the fragment of a second it took the words to fall from Dumbledore's lips Astoria remembered what Theodore Nott had been talking about in the wood after the Cup. She forgot about Mad-Eye Moody. Her hand clenched in a wild throw of anticipation.

"It is my great pleasure to inform you," said Dumbledore, "that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

There was a moment of tangible silence in which it took for the tension to break and a boy from the Gryffindor table exclaimed, "You're JOKING!"

Laughter exploded throughout the Hall, lingering for longer than usual as shock and alarm at Mad-Eye Moody's unexpected appearance spilled away. Astoria felt her chest shake with laughter of her own. Excitement was making it difficult to think. She had heard about the Triwizard Tournament many times before, it was a thing of legend.

"I am _not_ joking, Mr. Weasley,"' Dumbledore said with a smile when the laughter had dissipated enough to hear, "though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar …."

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly and Headmaster Dumbledore abruptly remembered himself, "Er – but maybe this is not the time…no…. Where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament…well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who _do _know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and will allow their attention to wander freely."

Astoria did not wonder if Dumbledore was serious about letting her attention wander or not. Her mind had already taken to flights of fancy. She saw herself holding a glowing, glorified trophy, rising in front of crowd, whom cheered her name –

"Did he say _death toll_?" Sara hissed.

Astoria shook herself out of her daydreams and whispered back, "It doesn't matter. It's perfectly safe now, I'm sure." Astoria was not concerned over deaths that had happened hundreds of years ago.

"There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament," Dumbledore continued, "none of which have been very successful. However, our own Department of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that this time, no champion will himself or herself in mortal danger."

"See?" said Astoria, "perfectly safe."

"The Heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their shortlisted contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand galleons personal prize money."

In the corner of her eye Astoria saw Mark and Stephan exchange eager looks. _As if Stephan could ever win_…. Astoria visualized herself again, rising singly and above the rest of the students at Hogwarts.

Dumbledore's voice cut through sharply and cruelly, shattering fantasies, "Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard cup to Hogwarts, the Heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on the contenders this year. Only students who are of age – that is to say, seventeen or older – will be aloud to put forward their names for consideration."

Shouts of outrage began to rise from the students. Astoria felt disappointed pierce and burst the glimmering pictures of glory and riches, the trophy raised above her head –

Dumbledore raised his voice to be heard above the students, "This is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precaution we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion. I therefore beg you not to waist your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen."

Astoria again saw Mark and Stephan looking at each other and thought spitefully that they were no doubt considering that Dumbledore couldn't possibly put any restrictions or charms that _they_ couldn't get around.

Dumbledore said a few remaining words to them about the delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang and the expected whole-hearted support of the Hogwarts champion. He then dismissed them to bed.

Astoria stood from the table wit Sara and Melissa and began to make her way through all the other students who had all gotten up at the same time. She passed a group of tiny, frightened looking first-years, waiting for the instruction from a Prefect. She felt wonderful advised and sophisticated as she watched them.

"I don't quite understand," said Sara when they finally broke free of the crowd well enough so that they could breathe. "this Triwizard Tournament is really famous right? Like both of you have heard about it?"

"Of course," said Astoria. "There are tons of stories told about it."

"But why did they choose this particular year to bring it back?" said Sara.

"Who cares?" said Melissa, practically squealing with excitement. "This is so brilliant."

"I wonder who's going to be Hogwarts champion," said Astoria.

"And these two other schools Beauxbatons and Durmstrang," Sara continued, "they're magical schools, too?"

"Yeah, haven't you heard of them before?" said Astoria.

"Erm – no," said Sara. "I've never really thought about other magical schools before. But now that I do think about it, I guess it makes sense."

"Yeah, they're all over the place actually. There are different spells and such for different ethnic groups," said Melissa, demonstrating a rare occurrence when she volunteered information without any prompting.

"It stinks that we're all too young to enter," said Astoria.

Sara shrugged, "Like Headmaster Dumbledore said, the magic would probably be too advanced for us."

"Yeah, but still," Astoria insisted. "It stinks. I wouldn't mind a bit of that glory and riches."

Melissa shuddered. "I don't mind at all. It sounds dangerous."

They reached the alcove of the Ravenclaw tower stairs, turned off of the corridor and began to climb.

"I wonder what the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be like?" said Sara.

Melissa shrugged, "Probably a lot like us."

"Mum considered sending Daphne and I to Beauxbatons," said Astoria. "It's the most prominent western Europe magical academy, almost better than Hogwarts." And Beauxbatons did not have Dumbledore for a headmaster, which meant there would be no werewolves or paranoid ex-Aurors teaching classes. But Astoria left that part off.

"Really?" Sara said, then smiled "Well I'm glad she decided to send you here."

Melissa panted, "I'd forgotten how much of a drag these stairs are."

They were half-way up the tower and Astoria felt her calves burn.

"I hope Hogwarts champion is a Ravenclaw," said Sara.

"Yeah – me too," said Melissa, in between trying to catch her breath.

"Who do you think will enter?" said Astoria. They reached the landing in front of the Ravenclaw common room door. Astoria let the knocker hanging from the bronze eagle's talons fall against the wood.

"My brother probably will," said Melissa, sounding curiously unhappy. "Even though he'll technically be too young, I bet he tries to get around Dumbledore's enchantments."

"Don't worry, Melissa," said Sara as the eagle asked them a riddle in its chirping, musical voice. "I'm sure Dumbledore's good enough to stop him."

They answered the riddle and the door swung open to admit them.

"Wouldn't you want him to get in, though?" said Astoria, "What if he won?"

Melissa frowned. "I'd rather have him safe."

They cross the common room; it was unusually crowded with students up late to discuss the news of the Tournament. They climbed the stairs to the girls' dormitories and found the right door, now marked with the lettering: _second years_.

They entered the dormitory to find the two other girls who shared the dorm already present, Aurora Shaning and Tiffany Lanesingly. Astoria greeted the two girls and then starting preparing for bed.

Her mind was moving too quickly to sleep. The other girls climbed into their four-posters and Astoria lay back in her own, listening to their whispering through her curtains. She thought of Dumbledore's announcements, of Mad-Eye Moody's induction to the Hogwarts staff and the Triwizard Tournament – but mostly about the Triwizard Tournament. She fell asleep with visions of glory, the feel of the trophies handle clutched in her hand, and the sound of the people's voices in her ears, as they chanted her name.


	3. Professor Moody

Chapter Three – Professor Moody:

Astoria scooped porridge into her mouth with one hand and held a copy of the second-years' schedule in her other. She ran her eyes down the list. From beside her, Melissa groaned, "Urg, Double Potions today, right after breakfast."

"You never know," chirped Sara, "maybe Professor Snape has gotten better."

Astoria choked on her mouthful of porridge.

"And we're still with the Slytherins," Melissa added dolefully.

Astoria swallowed her porridge and felt it slump in her stomach like a rock. Even Sara's face looked slightly less cheerful. It was not that Astoria particularly disliked Potions – in fact, she thought she might actually enjoy it, if it was not for a couple of factors not in its favor.

One was the Potions Master, Professor Snape, whom was secretly everyone's least favorite teacher – they were all just too afraid of him to say that out loud. He had yellow skin and yellow teeth, black eyes, black hair and wore swooping black robes. He was unpleasant and sarcastic and generally gave the impression he was concocting thousands of way in which to kill one when he was staring at them. He also only ever gave good marks to his house: Slytherin.

The second reason Astoria disliked Potions was that the Ravenclaws happened to attend it _with_ the Slytherins.

Which ordinarily would not have been a problem except that Astoria was _not_ a Slytherin and her sister _was_ and somehow the rest of the Slytherins seemed to _know that_.

"What else do we have?" said Sara.

"Transfiguration after lunch," said Melissa with another groan. Nowhere near as bad as Potions, but the Transfiguration teacher, Professor McGonagall, was very strict and not apt to offer clemency should they not be paying attention to her class due to a taxing Potions lesson beforehand. "And then Charms after that."

"Well at least Professor Flitwick isn't so bad," said Sara. "When do we have Defense class? I want to see what Professor Moody's like."

"Tomorrow, after History of Magic," said Astoria, pushing away her empty porridge bowl and holding up her schedule so she could read.

Melissa shivered, "I don't know…he scared me. I've heard that half of Azkaban is full because of him."

"It isn't as though he's going to try to throw you in Azkaban," said Astoria.

"Still," she said, "I don't know why Professor Dumbledore got him. I've never heard of Moody wanting to _teach_ before."

"Maybe it's always been a secret desire of his, or something," said Sara with a shrug and a smile. "Come on, better hurry or we'll be late to Potions."

They gathered their things and made their way towards the dungeons. Students bustled past them on their way to classes of their own. Astoria saw her sister through a crowd of older Hufflepuff's.

Daphne caught sight of Astoria and called her over.

Astoria excused herself from and wove her way toward Daphne. "Daphne I can't be late," she said when she got there. "It's the first day and Potions –"

"I'll be quick," said Daphne. She was standing with two of her friends that Astoria had met on previous occasion. They were Sophie Roper and Tracey Davis and otherwise engaged in conversation and not paying any attention to the sisters.

Daphne still pulled Astoria a little ways away, "So, what did you think about last night?"

Astoria shrugged. She didn't think anything about last night that might warrant being late for Potions, but she didn't tell that to Daphne.

"It's brilliant about the Triwizard Tournament –"

"Yes," said Daphne impatiently, "But what about Moody? What did you think about him being the new Defense Professor?"

Astoria had been hearing about the ludicrous antics of Mad-Eye Moody for most of her life, but knew of nothing that would warrant this cryptic tone.

"I thought it was really irresponsible of Dumbledore," said Astoria "if that's what you're hoping I'd say." She then looked behind her shoulder, hoping Moody wouldn't be anywhere in sight and wondering if he had a magical ear as well as eye.

"Good, I'm glad you think that" said Daphne. "Just – stay out of his way, alright? Moody is really dangerous. Watch out for him, alright?"

"What do you mean?" said Astoria. She knew Moody was paranoid and more than a little spell-happy, but _dangerous_? It seemed like a very strong word, but a specific one.

"Yeah," said Daphne uncomfortably, "just keep your head down in class. Don't give him any reasons to get you in trouble. Alright?"

"Alright…" said Astoria, uncomfortably feeling like Daphne wasn't telling her something.

"When do you have him, anyway?" said Daphne.

"Erm – tomorrow," Astoria answered. She was interrupted when one of Daphne's friends flounced over.

It was Sophie Roper, a flaunting, simpering girl, "Come on, Daphne," she said. "We'll be late for class."

"I should go, too," said Astoria. Sophie Roper didn't seem to notice her.

"Okay," said Daphne, "take care."

Astoria left and hastened to make it down to the dungeons in time. She arrived out of breath but just as Professor Snape was ushering them into the classroom.

She took seats with Sara and Melissa.

"Silence," said Professor Snape as the classroom door swung shut with a clang. There had been no need for the order and Astoria felt the familiar feeling of dread sink in her stomach, like the door shutting had been one to her prison cell.

"To see how much information has leaked out of your sorry brains over the summer," Professor Snape continued, producing a collection of tiresome looking bundles of parchment, "we will begin with a test."

Astoria trickled out of the Potion's classroom two hours later with her head pounding. Following the test, Snape had treated them to an hour long lecture on the swelling solution – what they would be working on this half of term – and then bid them class over, have a foot and a half on the properties of Boomslang skin next Tuesday.

"What a way to start the term," said Sara, her morning perkiness finally dissolved. "I hope that doesn't speak of what the rest of the year is going to be like."

"Don't even say that," said Melissa.

"Oh well," said Sara, "we should cheer up. At least we'll have the Triwizard Tournament to look forward to."

"Yeah," said Astoria. "what students do you think will try for it?"

"Probably most who are old enough," said Sara. "I mean, glory and riches are pretty strong stimulus."

"Yeah, but death and maiming are pretty strong cons," Melissa put in.

Sara sighed, "What I could do with one-thousand galleons…. I don't want to even think about what that is in Muggle money."

"–As if you could ever win," scoffed a voice from behind them. Astoria whirled around. She had been afraid of this, another reason why she disliked Potions, another reason why she disliked Slytherins: Livonia Mentang and Eris Platinous. Completing the group was Europa and Charon Shale, twins although not identical, whom never did much to make them anything more than cronies.

It was Livonia Mentang whom spoke, blond hair swinging in a tail behind her head and lips curled in a smirk. "A Muggle-born like you shouldn't even think about winning a _wizards'_ competition."

Astoria had set apart time during the summer to think of comebacks to some of Livonia's more obvious ploys. She found each and every one of them flying away from her grasp in the heat of the moment.

"Like you could win, either," Astoria snapped. "You would get flattened five seconds into the first task."

"As if _you_ would last longer," Livonia shot back, turning her burning blue-eyes on Astoria. Behind Livonia, Eris Platinous rolled her eyes.

"Erm, not to sound like a downer," said Sara, "but isn't this argument completely illogical? It isn't as though we could enter even if we wanted too. Besides, we probably _would_ all be flattened five second in."

"You don't know anything about it, Muggle-born," Livonia spat. They were climbing their way back up to the entrance hall. Astoria wondered how much trouble she would get into if she pushed Livonia down the stairs.

"Yeah?" said Sara, showing surprising bravado as she stopped half-way up the stairwell and turned to look Livonia in the face, "well there are plenty of things _you_ don't know about that I do!"

Livonia laughed, "Nothing of importance."

"Well what's the first nine digits after the decimal in pi?" Sara demanded.

"_What_? Said Livonia, then looked angry at herself for saying anything at all.

"Its one-four-one-five-nine-two-six-five-three!" said Sara triumphantly.

"You call that something of importance?" said Livonia, voicing what Astoria had been thinking but unwilling to say.

Sara bristled, "Pi is incredibly important – it – it's used to find the area of circles and without it we wouldn't have radians –"

"Isn't pie just a pastry stuffed with fruit?" said Europa Shale.

Eris rolled her eyes again, clearly she was unimpressed with the way her friends had come out for she grabbed Livonia's wrist and yanked her up the stairs, "Come on, Livonia. Let's just go." Eris pulled Livonia passed Sara, Astoria, and Melissa on the stairs. The Chale twins followed meekly after them. Astoria shot Eris a scowl as she passed.

Astoria broke into the corridor that would lead them to the entrance hall just as she heard a patter of footsteps coming up the stairs behind her. She pressed herself against the wall out of reflex, because whoever it was coming up the stairs sounded as if they were in a hurry.

Sara was not so lucky. She stepped off the top stair just a tall boy, with a pale, pointed face and a mop of white-blond hair, raced up after her. Draco Malfoy shoved Sara unceremoniously to the side.

"Hey!" she cried.

Draco Malfoy footsteps pounded down the corridor and his black robes whipped around his ankles. Something was held tightly in his fist. No doubt he had just come from the Slytherin common room.

"Weasley! Hey Weasley!" drifted his voice back to them, echoing loudly and triumphantly.

"Why, the _nerve_!" Sara declared, rubbing her shoulder where she'd hit the wall. She hopped out of the way as Draco Malfoy's two hulking friends Crabbe and Goyle, whom seemed more bodyguards than anything else, followed after him. Both were breathing hard, faces flushed from exertion.

"You alright?" said Melissa quietly, appearing finally out of the back after the confrontation with Livonia and now this.

"I'm fine," said Sara, pouting and still rubbing her shoulder. "Where does he think he's going?"

Astoria could still hear Draco Malfoy's voice, echoing against the high ceiling of the entrance hall and down the corridor: "Your dad's in the paper, Weasley! Listen to this!"

"Come on," she said over her shoulder to Melissa and Sara, beginning to quicken her pace, "let's see what's happening."

She rounded the corner and came out into the entrance hall, where a crowd had gathered to go to lunch but been held up the commotion at the doors to the Great Hall.

There was Draco Malfoy, flourishing a crinkled copy of the _Dailey Prophet_, confronting a tall boy with hair as flaming red as his face, accompanied by to friends, a girl and Harry Potter. Astoria recognized Harry Potter immediately. She had seen him only a handful of time during her first-year but everyone knew what he looked like: black hair, strikingly green eyes, and round glasses.

Draco Malfoy began to read off his copy of the _Prophet_, "Further mistakes at the Ministry of Magic:

"It seems as though the Ministry of Magic's troubles are not yet at an end, _writes Rita Skeeter, special Correspondent. _Recently under fire for its poor crowd control at the Quidditch World Cup, and still unable to account for the disappearance of one of its witches, the Ministry was plunged into fresh embarrassment yesterday by the antics of Arnold Weasley, of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office."

Malfoy stopped reading to crow, "Imagine them not even getting his name right, Weasley. It's almost as though he's a complete nonentity, isn't it?"

Beside Astoria, Sara gasped, "How mean! That's a terrible thing to say!"

Astoria didn't know how to reply. Draco Malfoy's antics did seem distinctly below the belt. But he had a point. If the _newspaper_ didn't get one's name right it did seem like one was rather…unimportant. Astoria's mother's name had been in the paper several times, as a prominent member of the Wizengammot. The Prophet had always gotten _her_ name correct.

Malfoy was speaking again, reading off of the paper, "Mr. Weasly appears to have rushed to the aid of "Mad-Eye" Moody, the aged ex-Auror who retired from the Ministry when no longer able to tell the difference between a handshake and attempted murder. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Weasly found, upon arrival at Mr. Moody's heavily guarded house, that Mr. Moody had once again raised a false alarm. Mr. Weasly was forced to modify several memories before he could escape from the policemen, but refused to answer _Daily Prophet _questions about why he had involved the Ministry in such an undignified and potentially embarrassing scene."

Astoria didn't care about Malfoy antagonizing Ronald Weasley. She knew from her sister that Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter were rivals, whom took every chance to hit one when the other wasn't looking. No doubt this was just another of those times.

She was interested, however, in the story about Mad-Eye Moody. She hadn't heard he'd almost been _arrested_. And yet, Dumbledore _still_ allowed him to teach.

"And there's a picture, Weasley!"' Malfoy concluded, flipping the newspaper and holding it up. "A picture of your parents outside their house – if you can call it a house! Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn't she?"

Sara gasped again. Ronald Weasley was trembling with rage. He looked as though steam might gush from his ears.

Harry Potter spoke up, murmuring as if he was conscious that everyone in the hall was listening intently, "Get stuffed Malfoy, C'mon, Ron…."

"Oh yeah, you were staying with them this summer, weren't you, Potter?" Malfoy sneered. "So tell me, is his mother really that porky, or is it just the picture?"

Harry Potter and his other friend, the girl with the bushy hair, had to grab the back of Weasley's robe to keep him from launching himself at Malfoy. In some wild and unconnected part of her brain Astoria wondered with a pitch of intrigue what would happen if Harry Potter and his friend let go of Weasley's robes. She had never seen a fight before, and would not have minded had Draco Malfoy's nose got flattened.

Although she would not contemplate ever saying it allowed. He was Draco _Malfoy_, after all.

Potter and his friend managed to pull Weasley away. Insults were exchanged and Astoria felt a trickling, miniscule feeling of disappointment when she realized there was not going to be a fight. Potter tugged his friends toward the Great Hall, turning his back on Malfoy. Malfoy drew his wand. Sara shrieked as a jet of light shot out from Malfoy's wand, brushing passed Potter's ear, whom whipped around –

"OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!"

Astoria started and felt a gasp seep out of her lips. She blinked in shock and alarm. Standing where Draco Malfoy used to be was suddenly a pure white, shivering ferret. It had happened so quickly Astoria had not even seen the blur transfiguration.

She heard the thumping footfalls on the marble staircase and turned to Mad-Eye Moody limping towards the floor, wand outstretched and quivering with rage in his mangled hand.

Melissa bumped into Astoria as she backed away, shrinking from their enraged Defense Professor. Sara's eyes were popping and mouth hanging open in mute surprise. Astoria watched, unwilling to even blink lest she miss something.

"Did he get you?" growled Moody to Potter.

"No, missed."

"LEAVE IT!" Moody roared. Astoria felt Melissa jump.

Astoria saw one of Malfoy's friends – she thought it might have been Crabbe but couldn't really tell the two apart – stumble backwards from where he'd been about to pick of the ferret off the floor.

Draco Malfoy. The ferret on the floor. Astoria could not connect the two in her mind. Something caught in her throat, something that felt horrifyingly like laughter. She choked it down.

"Leave – what?" said Potter.

"Not you – him!" Moody jerked his thumb over his shoulder to Crabbe. Moody turned and began barreling towards the three Slytherins, wand outstretched, eye whirling madly in its socket. The hall watched in terrified, eager silence.

The ferret let out a horrified squeak and scurried away, toward Astoria and the corridor that lead to the dungeons.

Sara stumbled out of the way but Moody roared, "I don't think so!"

The ferret seemed to trip over its own feet, then it rose into the air, legs still moving as if it was unaware it had left the ground, and then pelted back towards the floor, hitting the stone with a smack.

Sara gasped in a mixture of shock and disgust. Astoria felt her mouth drop open. Several people shrieked.

"I don't like people who attack when their opponent's back's turned," Moody snarled as the ferret hit ground again and again. "Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do…."

Beside her, Astoria felt Sara move. Astoria's hand enclosed around Sara's upper arm, afraid perhaps she was going to rush forward to intervene.

"Never – do – that – again –" Moody punctuated each word with an exclamation point and a slam of the ferret to the ground. It flailed helplessly in the air, squealing.

"Professor Moody!" Astoria felt her stomach drop in relief. She saw Professor McGonagall running down the marble staircase, a pile of books in her arms.

"Hello, Professor McGonagall," said Moody. The ferret continued to hit the ground and fly into the air again.

"What – what are you doing?" McGonagall faltered, looking from Professor Moody, to the bouncing ferret, and to the surrounding students – some of whom were smiling quickly checked their expressions.

"Teaching," said Moody.

"Teach – Moody, _is that a student?_"

"Yep."

"No!" The books clattered to the floor and McGonagall flourished her wand. With a loud snap Draco Malfoy reappeared, in a shivering lump on the floor.

"Moody, we _never_ use transfiguration as a punishment! Surely Professor Dumbledore told you that?" McGonagall's chest heaved with breath. Her face was pale with anger.

Draco Malfoy's face was flushed red. He got to his feet slowly, shirking away from Moody, whom still stood before him with his wand drawn.

"He might've mentioned it, yeah."' Moody scratched his chin. "But I thought a good sharp shock –"

'"We give detentions, Moody! Or speak to the offender's Head of House!"' McGonagall cried.

"I'll do that, then," Moody growled.

Malfoy muttered something about "my father".

"Oh yeah?" Moody asked taking a step closer to Draco. "Well, I know you father of old, boy…. You tell him Moody's keeping a close eye on his son … you tell him that from me…. Now, your Head of House'll be Snape, will it?"

"Yes," Malfoy grunted unwillingly.

"Another old friend," Moody growled. "I've been looking forward to a chat with old Snape…. Come on, you…." He grabbed Malfoy by his upper arm and dragged him forward. Astoria pressed herself against the wall and out of the way as they swept passed. She averted her eyes. It would not do to make eye-contact, with either Moody or Malfoy.

For the space of a second there was not a sound in the entrance hall, then the students exhaled and voices rushed out all at once.

"Oh…my…goodness," said Sara.

Melissa squealed something indiscernible. Several students were laughing, most were muttering in low voices about what had just happened.

"Did you see his face?"

"Malfoy's or Moody's?"

"Good thing McGonagall stopped it."

"He's our _teacher_?"

"I've never seen something like that before," said Sara shakily. "If that's how Professor Moody punishes all his students then I'm not so sure he should be teaching here."

"That was _scary_," said Melissa.

"Malfoy could have really been hurt," said Astoria, not entirely certain if that mattered.

"But that was terrible what he was saying to that other boy," said Sara.

"Not really," said Astoria quickly, "everyone knows Malfoy hates Potter and Weasley – it didn't really mean anything."

"Come on," said Sara when the rest of the students began to disperse through the doors of the Great Hall. Astoria, Sara, and Melissa made their way to the Ravenclaw table.

Astoria saw Mark and Stephan sitting a little ways down from them. They were enthusiastically discussing what had just happened.

"That was bloody brilliant," said Mark.

"Yeah," Stephan agreed, "Malfoy won't be so high and mighty now."

"Do you think he deserved it?" Sara chimed in. "I mean, he was being mean but to be turned into a ferret and bounced off the floor…."

Mark laughed at the memory.

"Of course he deserved it," Stephan answered. "He's a stuck-up little bigot."

Astoria glared at him and Stephan's voice ebbed away. She had been expecting him to add something along the lines of _plus, he's a Slytherin pureblood_.

Sara shrugged, "I guess it's alright – at least McGonagall stopped it before it went too far."

"Can't wait until tomorrow!" said Mark.

"Just make sure you don't answer a question wrong," said Sara, laughing, "else it'll be you bouncing on the floor."

Astoria began to eat her lunch. She remembered what Daphne had told her that morning, to watch out for Professor Moody. Astoria wondered if _this_ was what her sister had meant by _dangerous_.

* * *

The next day, mid-morning, Astoria sat in-between Sara and Melissa and faced the front of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. The classroom itself looked unassuming: there was a desk and a blackboard and a window letting in a stream of sunlight. Standing in front of the rows of second-years, however, was Professor Moody.

Large and menacing he stood before them, swathed in a dark cloak and magical eye whirling to each students' face in turn. Astoria felt a shiver of anticipation when it swept over her.

Professor Moody began the class with a roll call, "Ackerley, Derek."

"Here, sir," answered Derek Ackerley, a boy whom shared a dormitory with Mark and Stephan. He sounded tense and excited; he leaned forward over his desk.

"Andrews, Jessie."

"Present."

He ran down the list of students' names, eye spinning.

Astoria clenched her new Defense book in her hands, feeling sweat collect beneath her palms and onto the glossy surface of the cover.

"Greengrass, Astoria."

"Present, sir."

A beat of silence and, "How's your father, Greengrass?"

Astoria looked up. She felt gooseflesh erupt over her arms as she saw Moody's eye was trained on hers – his normal one, the magical one was still whizzing over the room.

"My father…?" she heard her voice escape her lips but became pointedly aware that no, she had not misheard Professor Moody. "My father's dead, sir."

Another heartbeat of silence in which Astoria felt Moody's magical eye stop roving about the room and focus on her. She felt the other Ravenclaw second-years attention pique and heard the ruffling of robes and hair as they turned to stare at her.

"Sorry to hear that, Greengrass. Hibburt, Sara."

"What? I mean – here, sir!"

Moody's eyes left her. Astoria felt her shoulders slump as if his gaze had been physically holding her to attention. She didn't realize until then how quickly her heart had been thumping. She wondered if the other students could hear it, if they were still staring at her. Surely they were; she could feel each of their eyes as they grazed the back of her head.

Her father. How was _her father_? Her father was dead. Astoria realized she had never said that aloud, never that actual sequence of words. Her father was dead.

Astoria father's name was Hyperion Meliflua. She had never met him. He was dead. He had died when Astoria was five-years-old. He had died in Azkaban, sentenced there for life for the crimes of a Death Eater. All of these were facts, insurmountable, irrefutable facts.

She wondered why Professor Moody cared. She wondered how he didn't already know. More than that she wondered how he had known that – that Hyperion Meliflua had been married to Lyra Greengrass when Lyra Greengrass had always kept her maiden name.

Astoria wondered how Professor Moody had known Hyperion Meliflua was her father.


	4. Explanations

Author's Note: half-way through I was envisioning scenes of Elsa and Anna from _Frozen_.

* * *

Chapter Four – Explanations:

The Defense Against the Dark Arts class was pressingly silent as Professor Moody began his lecture. He explained the differences of the verdimillious duo and the vermillious duo and then had two boys stand up and try to demonstrate.

Astoria did not listen.

She stared straight ahead at the blackboard and wondered…she wondered. She wondered about Daphne, how she had warned her against Professor Moody. She wondered about Professor Moody and what exactly he _meant_. She wondered just what kind of a man Hyperion Meliflua had been.

She felt the other students staring at her. She saw out of the corner of her eye as the students in the row ahead of her shot looks over their shoulders to stare at her. She felt her book held tightly in her hand, felt the cover slip from sweat, and dug her fingernails into it to keep it from falling out of her grasp.

She wondered and wondered and wondered, mind racing to all kinds of possibilities that led to dead ends and more twisting avenues and more dead ends. Everything came crashing to a halt against that tall, hard, impenetrable wall in her mind because she just _didn't know_ –

Finally the bell rang. Astoria swiftly gathered her things and was the first to leave through the door, feeling the other students' eyes, imagining she felt Moody's magical eye watching her through the walls. She was half-way back to the Great Hall for lunch – not thinking of eating, she only knew that after Defense class she was supposed to go back to the Great Hall – when she became aware that Sara and Melissa were hastening behind her, trying to keep up.

"Astoria – wait," said Sara's voice.

Astoria did not want to. She wanted to run. She wanted to _know_. She didn't want their questions – questions she didn't know the answer too.

"Wait, please," Sara's fingers closed around Astoria's wrist and gently pulled her to a stop. Astoria turned to face Sara and Melissa, heart thumping beneath her chest, and not knowing what had happened, not understanding, not knowing what it was she was suddenly feeling so upset about.

"Are you okay?" said Sara, brown eyes soft and concerned.

"I'm fine," said Astoria's lips. Why wouldn't she be fine? Nothing had happened that would make her _not_ fine.

"That was – what was that about?"

"I don't –" Astoria's tongue twisted; her words stumbled. "I don't know."

"Do you…I mean," Sara looked uncomfortable. Her face was turning red. Melissa hovered uncertainly behind her. "Do you know Professor Moody? Did your father –"

"No," said Astoria quickly. "I don't know."

"Was that," Sara shuffled from one foot to another. "Was that something Professor Moody should have said? I mean I – didn't know your father had died – I'm sorry."

"Don't be," said Astoria automatically. "I'm fine. He – died when I was little. It doesn't matter."

"Did you – want to talk about it?" said Sara.

"No. I'm fine." Astoria wondered if she had spoken too sharply. She couldn't tell. She didn't care. She wanted to _know_.

Daphne. Astoria wanted to talk to Daphne. Daphne…knew something. She had _warned_ Astoria. She had told Astoria to keep her head down in Moody's class. Moody was dangerous. Daphne _knew something_.

Astoria distractedly realized she was walking towards the Ravenclaw table again. Sara and Melissa were following closely behind. Then Astoria was sitting down, she was scooping something onto her plate, shoveling it into her mouth.

_How's your father, Greengrass?_

_My father's dead._

_Sorry to hear that. _

He hadn't sounded sorry. He had sounded cold and emotionless, Astoria imagined triumphant.

She shut her eyes, trying to clear away the noise of the Hall, the clanking silver wear, the voices and laughter of the other students. She needed quiet, some silence so that she could _think._

"Come on," said Sara almost hesitantly. "Astoria? We're going to be late for Herbology."

Astoria blinked to find her plate was empty. She wasn't aware of how much time had passed.

"Astoria?"

"Sure," she said quickly, conscious that Sara and Melissa were staring at her. Everyone was still staring at her. She looked over her shoulder to see the rest of the students were engaged in their meal, or else gathering their things to leave for class. She looked to the Staff Table but Professor Moody was nowhere in sight. She shuddered. She could feel his eye on the back of her head, always roving, always piercing; it was staring at her….

Sara and Melissa stood from the table. Astoria shook her head, trying to clear away the film of confusion that had draped itself over her mind. She stood and followed them, making an effort to appear cheerful and unconcerned.

They repotted shrieking mandrakes in double Herbology and then went back to the Great Hall for supper. Astoria did not recall speaking a word all through Herbology. Sara and Melissa, as though they sensed she wished to be left alone, had talked quietly within themselves, leaving Astoria out of it.

As soon as she got to the Great Hall she looked to the Slytherin table, trying to find her sister. Daphne was nowhere in sight. Perhaps her class had run late, perhaps it had ended early and Daphne had already eaten – the reasons didn't matter. Astoria _needed_ to talk to Daphne.

Again Astoria wasn't hungry. Again she ate solely because there was a platter of food in front of her. It was getting late and Astoria needed to start on Professor Snape's homework from yesterday but still she dawdled, watching for her sister at the Slytherin table.

Finally Astoria was forced to conclude that Daphne was not going to show up, and left for Ravenclaw tower with Sara and Melissa. She would simply have to talk to her sister the next day, first thing.

* * *

It took her hours to fall asleep that night and, as such, overslept her alarm. Breakfast was a hurried affair – she wasn't even able to check for Daphne at Slytherin – and then Astoria rushed off to class.

By lunch the wind had been let out of her sails. This side of the day, with Professor Moody's magical eye mercifully nowhere to be seen, what he had said in class didn't seem nearly so significant. Perhaps Sara was right. Perhaps Professor Moody had just known Astoria's father. Perhaps he didn't mean anything more by asking Astoria how he was then simply wanting to know how he was.

Except Astoria's father was dead. Except Astoria's father had been a Death Eater and Professor Moody an Auror and the only time they could have possibly known each other was back in the war, when both would have been on separate sides.

At dinner Astoria caught sight of Daphne's sheet of blond hair and worked up enough courage to step forward. Daphne was deep in conversation with her friends, and it took Astoria two clears of the throat and a tap on the shoulder to finally get her sister's attention.

"McGonagall's given us enough homework you'd think we were preparing for exams – yes, what is it, Tori?" Daphne sounded impatient. Behind her Sophie Roper pursed her lips.

"Can I talk to you, Daphne?"

"Yes, Tori, what is it?"

"–Privately?"

Daphne groaned, which Astoria thought was unfair given Astoria hadn't given much a fight when Daphne had called her over the day before. Astoria felt her stomach twisting as she led Daphne out of the Hall and into a corner of the entrance hall. She wondered how on earth she was supposed to voice what she'd come to ask – not even to ask, just to talk about, just to – to _say_ something.

"So?" said Daphne, crossing her arms.

It was not a very inviting front. Astoria pushed on, trying to gather her thoughts and ideas into something that Daphne would not simply brush off.

"Well I – I was in Defense Against the Dark Arts yesterday –" perhaps it was only Astoria's imagination or a flicker of a shadow, but she thought she saw Daphne's face darken, or maybe become a bit more somber. "And during roll call Professor Moody said something –"

"He didn't threaten you, did he?" said Daphne quickly.

Astoria stammered, "He – what? _Threaten_ me? No. Why would he?" She felt a familiar shiver run up her spine, the same that she had felt when Professor Moody's magical eye fell on her face.

Daphne suddenly looked uncomfortable. "He – I don't know. No reason – just, I had Defense class today – but, never mind. Tell me what you were going to."

Astoria watched Daphne's face, looking for anything she could hold onto in order to discover what she was skirting around.

"It was just that Professor Moody," Astoria started again, "well he – asked about Dad."

Daphne's expression did not change. She did not look surprised, or shocked, or alarmed. "What did he say?"

"He only – asked how was our father and then I told him he was dead," said Astoria – wondering because the whole thing sounded so silly but why had Daphne thought Professor Moody might _threaten_ her? "And then he said he was sorry."

Daphne nodded but didn't say anything. Astoria waited. She looked at her sister's face again, stared into her blue eyes and tried to make some kind of a connection.

"Daphne, what's going on?" she hadn't meant to sound so melodramatic. "What happened in Defense class with you today?"

Daphne chewed on her lower lip. Astoria could barely contain her impatience, but knew she mustn't say anything for Daphne was on the fencepost of telling Astoria or not telling her, and Astoria couldn't push too hard.

"Nothing," said Daphne finally. "Nothing really – just some – Professor Moody just had this _way_ about him. Like maybe he'd change us all into ferrets if we stepped out of line." There was no joke in Daphne's voice. "I was just wondering if he had treated all the classes like that or just us because we're – you know – Slytherins. He seemed especially fierce toward Theo and Malfoy. And I thought that might have been because their fathers were both thought to be Death Eaters –"

"But neither of their fathers were convicted," said Astoria before she could stop herself, pieces finally starting to fall together. She suddenly felt very cold. "And our father was."

Daphne swallowed. "Astoria – I shouldn't tell you this but – Mum took me aside during the summer, and…." Daphne hesitated. "It's Moody – Professor Moody."

"What about him?" Astoria couldn't stand it. She felt her pulse racing in her neck, felt her fingers shake and clenched them tightly at her sides.

"He," Daphne started again, "well he's the Auror that caught Dad."

Astoria didn't know what she was supposed to say. There was silence for a moment as Daphne seemed to allow Astoria to absorb the information. Astoria didn't know what she was supposed to think. She didn't know how she was supposed to feel about that – towards Professor Moody.

"That's why you need to keep your head down in his class," Daphne continued. "Just don't give him any reasons not to like you."

"But I _haven't_ given him any reason and he already doesn't like me," said Astoria, something she couldn't quite hold onto was swirling in her mind, making her dizzy. She wondered for the clenched feeling in her throat that made it difficult to speak. She looked over her shoulder, again feeling Moody's eye on the back of her head.

He wasn't there.

Of course he wasn't there.

"Well," said Daphne slowly, "hopefully he won't make anything more out of it. If he does be sure to tell me and I'll write Mum."

"Couldn't we just go to Dumbledore?" said Astoria. "I mean, isn't that not right – persecution or something?"

"Astoria," said Daphne, almost rolling her eyes. "We _can't_ go to Dumbledore. Dumbledore _hired_ Moody. Do you think he'd be on our side?"

Astoria chewed on her lip. She hadn't thought about that. She hadn't thought about any of it. She suddenly felt horribly enclosed, as if the walls to the entrance hall were closing in on her. She felt suddenly trapped.

But nothing had happened. Nothing was going to happen. Professor Moody wasn't going to say anything else. Astoria hadn't anything to worry about.

"But what does it all mean?" she said hesitantly. "Why would Moody still care? I mean – how was Dad even captured, anyway?" Immediately Astoria wondered if that was something she should have said. Astoria didn't know what Daphne felt about their father; they had never really talked about it much. Besides, she didn't know how much more about it Daphne knew.

Daphne frowned. "I don't know. But I've been…wondering…." Daphne's voice evaporated into the silence of the entrance hall. Astoria hesitated but for once decided perhaps she would not ask.

Suddenly the squirming feeling of nervousness she had been feeling changed into a pulsing sensation almost like anger. Astoria thought of her father, dying alone in Azkaban, thought about how she had never known him, and thought about Professor Moody – who had caught him, perhaps hurt him, perhaps dragged him to Azkaban to rot, bathing in the essence of dementors….

"Just – don't let Mum know I told you, alright?" Daphne added.

Astoria was brought abruptly back to the conversation, "Why doesn't Mum want me to know?"

Daphne looked uncomfortable again, "Well – you know – because you're…younger. Astoria, don't look like that. Mum just wants to protect you."

Protect her? Protect her from the truth? Astoria could have been saved so much trouble if she had just known this _before_. Perhaps she would have been somewhat prepared – not so confused. Besides, Lyra Greengrass had deemed Daphne _old enough to know_, had she?

"Fine," said Astoria.

"Tori, please. Just be safe, alright?"

"I will, Daphne."

"And tell me if anything happens. If Professor Moody says anything else."

"Alright."

Then Daphne did something unexpected. She pulled Astoria into a hug, something the sisters had not done for a long time.

"Alright," said Daphne over Astoria's head. Astoria noted that she came up to Daphne's nose now. Daphne hadn't grown very much over the summer. "I've got to get back to dinner."

"Alright," said Astoria.

"See you around."

"Yeah."

* * *

When Astoria climbed into bed that night, Sara, whose bed was right beside Astoria's leaned over the space between mattresses and asked for what seemed like the tenth time if Astoria was alright.

"Yeah, I'm fine," said Astoria, staring up at the dark canopy of her four-poster and refusing to meet Sara's eyes, lest she be drawn into a conversation.

"I just – you've been quiet," Sara whispered so Tiffany and Aurora, whom were giggling in a corner, would not hear. Melissa was already curled up in bed with her curtains drawn. "I wanted to make sure."

"No, I'm fine," Astoria insisted, and felt the words tumble and twist until she practically had to force them off her tongue: "Thank you, though."

Sara was silent for a moment. Astoria began to think she had shaken her –

"How did your father die, Astoria?"

Astoria swallowed.

"I mean – you don't have to tell me. I'm sorry if that was too personal."

It was personal. Astoria had never told anyone how her father had died, before. It wasn't that she was ashamed – her father had been a Death Eater and he had died in prison – but that wasn't anything to be _ashamed_….

It just didn't seem like the kind of a thing to talk about, least of all with Sara, whom was a Muggle-born, and might not understand.

Death Eater. Her father had been a Death Eater. Death Eaters didn't like Muggle-borns. Sometimes Death Eaters killed Muggle-borns. Sara was a Muggle-born.

Astoria's father had been a Death Eater.

She wondered – for the first time she wondered – uneasily, unwillingly, just what her father had _done_ to get himself into prison. Had it been enough to be branded with the Death Eater's sign, given a mask and the robes? Or had he – had he perhaps actually done some of the horrible things Astoria had heard of Death Eaters doing.

Had he tortured? Had he killed? Had he – murdered? Had he done so to Muggles and Muggle-borns, impure, defiling creatures whom perverted the magical way of life? Like Sara, Astoria's friend?

Astoria shut her eyes quickly as horrible, gruesome, terrifying pictures began to whirl in her head. Screaming faces, under the point of her father's wand, lifeless bodies, gleaming masks, fire leaping into the air as it had done at the campsite after the World Cup, the Dark Mark – glowing green in the air, writhing, signifying murder –

"Astoria?"

Astoria's eyes snapped open, and she felt beads of moisture left on her cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Astoria. I hadn't meant to…offend you, or anything –"

"No," said Astoria quickly, trying to gather herself, trying to erase pictures of lifeless bodies, tiny, thin, brown-haired, open-eyed bodies that wore Ravenclaw blue and bronze. "Don't be. I just – I don't really know if I want to talk about it."

"Oh, okay," said Sara hastily. "That's fine. That's totally fine. Sorry. If you ever want to though – you now, talk about it – I'm here, okay?"

"Okay," said Astoria, not knowing how to respond. She buried herself further under her covers, feeling cold and shivery as she had in the entrance hall, when she'd been talking with Daphne.

"Good-night, Astoria."

"Good-night, Sara."

* * *

Author's Note: Really short chapter this time. Sorry. I ran out of material that could fit into the context and couldn't take any of the other stuff I'm saving for later. I hope you enjoyed it, though. I'll be taking a temporary – very temporary – hiatus as I try to conjure up some more inspiration in-between school and what remains of a social life.

Thank you for any reviews; they're very much appreciated.

Also, I recently uploaded a one-shot about Pansy Parkinson entitled _Innocents_ which can be found on my profile page. I'm rather proud of it and sort-of disappointed with the lack of traffic it's been receiving so I'd be oh-so-grateful if you went to check it out and left a comment.

Shameless self-promotion out of the way, thank you again for all your support. 3


	5. Research

Author's Note: …wow…that was…a really long time between updates. I really apologize for that. Given the whirlwind of school, work, play and M*A*S*H that make up _life_, this story was kind of lost in the shuffle.

_But_, I'm back now, not entirely sure if I'll be back next week, but I assure you I will eventually get to the end of this story (I'm hoping and planning for seventeen chapters). Then I'll probably be taking another break before I start posting the third book in the series.

Anyway, thank you for your patience and any reviews.

* * *

Chapter Five – Research:

On Friday, Astoria was more than glad to see the end of the first school week. School seemed much harder than she remembered since first-year, but perhaps that was only because she wasn't used to it yet after holiday.

Even so, she was relieved when the last bell rang and she shut her Transfiguration book. Professor McGonagall released them, warning them to get their homework done over the weekend, and Astoria headed toward the Great Hall with Sara and Melissa.

"The first week back always feels the longest," said Sara sagely. "I'm so happy it's the weekend."

"But we've got so much homework," Melissa groaned. "A foot-and-a-half from Sprout, two feet from McGonagall, we have got to practice the Engorgement Charm for Flitwick –"

"Don't worry so much, Melissa," said Sara. "We'll get it done."

"_And_ we've got that essay for Professor Snape to finish –"

Ahead of them in the entrance hall, Astoria could see the start of the queue for dinner. Bobbing between the students was a girl with bushy, brown hair. She approached Astoria's group. Astoria was shocked and taken aback, because surely this was that Muggle-born friend of Harry Potter's – whatever her name was – and what was she doing about to talk to _Astoria_….

"Hello, I'm Hermione Granger," said the girl, clearly and business-like, sounding as if she was about to launch into a prepared speech.

Sara blinked, evidently just as surprised as Astoria was. "Oh, hello, I'm Sara Hibburt, this is Melissa –"

"I'm president and founder of the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare," here the girl brandished a little cardboard box she was holding; whatever was inside rattled. "Tell me, do you know who cooks your food? Do you know who keeps the castle tidy? Who keeps the fires burning in your common rooms and cleans the sheets on your beds?"

"I…don't know," said Sara. "I always assumed it was done magically…."

"Well," Hermione Granger continued as though she had not been interrupted. "I am here to inform you that it is, in fact, hoards of enslaved, overworked, underdressed house-elves that keep you warm and well-fed at Hogwarts. Elf enslavement goes back for centuries; the earliest case was in 1297, when Selene Soronac hired hit-men to kidnap some fifteen house-elves and then forced them to work as maids, cooks, and gardeners on her island retreat in the Mediterranean – under threat of imprisonment or death. Since then, enslaving house-elves has become a sign of wealth and prestige among wizard-kind. Thousands of house-elves have died while in forced servitude of their wizard masters, they or their children never tasting even the hope of freedom. I am here to tell you that this shameful, atrocious, and demeaning treatment of our fellow magical beings must be stopped. Our short-term aims are to secure house-elves fair wages and working conditions. Our long-term aims include changing the law denying house-elves the use of a wand, and securing a position for an elf in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Indoctrination in the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare costs only two sickles, and includes a badge signifying your whole-hearted agreement toward out cause" (she rattled the box again) "and full membership benefits, which include access to our meetings – every Wednesday in the Library at five o'clock – and democrat privileges to vote in our officers, perhaps even the opportunity to become an officer, yourself, if you should so be nominated."

Hermione Granger stopped and beamed, taking off the lid of the box and revealing a collection of different colored badges, each emblazoned with the word S.P.E.W.

Astoria stared at her. She discovered her mouth had slipped open and she hastily shut it. She tried to sort through and discover the important parts in the prattle.

"What does S.P.E.W. stand for?" said Sara, breaking the silence.

Clearly that had not been what Hermione Granger had been expecting nor would have like to hear. She frowned. "Well, I've just told you, haven't I? It is the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. We stand for the liberation and full emancipation of house-elves under wizard law. And it isn't _spew_."

Astoria discovered she was frowning. The Greengrass's had kept a house-elf for as long as Astoria could remember. Her name was Brownie and she did the cooking, cleaning, and gardening – but of course she was not _enslaved_. Just because the Astoria's mother didn't pay the house-elf, didn't mean she was enslaved. Besides, Astoria had never heard Brownie _complain_.

"So," said Sara, "it's house-elves who do the cooking and cleaning around Hogwarts?" Astoria recognized that mingled look of curiosity and innocence on Sara's face, and felt her shoulders slump. Being Muggle-born, Sara very often believed everything she heard from other wizards, even if what she heard was misconceptions or exaggerations.

Hermione Granger nodded vigorously. "They live in the kitchens, work through the night, are not recognized for their work, and are forbidden to wear clothes –"

"That's terrible," said Sara, face blanching in disbelief. "And Headmaster Dumbledore allows it?"

Hermione Granger nodded tersely, eyebrows furrowing. "I'm afraid so. And if you find these facts to be as troubling as I do, I implore you: these atrocities must come to an end! Can I interest you in a badge – only two sickles and receive full membership benefits –"

Sara looked to Astoria, and must have been stopped by something she saw in her face, for her smile disappeared. She turned back to Granger and said uncertainly, "I don't know…."

Granger looked slightly let-down at the prospect of losing a promising client. "Please," she said with renewed ferocity, rattling the box of pins beneath Sara's nose, "surely you do not _condone_ this inhumane treatment of house-elves?"

"Well, no," said Sara, glancing again toward Astoria, "But, well, I don't know."

"What about you?" said Granger, turning to Melissa, who cowered. "Do you care about the shameless degradation of our fellow magical beings?"

"Well I –" stammered Melissa. "Of course I –"

"Then I implore you!" said Granger. "Is not two sickles worth it to help better the lives of house-elves?" She turned to stare at Astoria, shaking the box of badges. Astoria unconsciously took a step backward.

"I – er," but was not completely sure of what she was supposed to say.

She knew Daphne wouldn't like it. In fact, Astoria, herself, didn't like it. House-elves didn't need to be freed. They probably didn't want to be freed. Everyone would laugh at her if they knew Astoria had joined such an organization. "I don't have any money on me…."

"Well," said Granger, smile quickly and alarmingly fixed back on her face, "I can put you down on my list for promising payment –"

"No," said Astoria quickly. "Don't do that."

Granger frowned.

Sara piped up, "Aren't you Harry Potter's friend?"

Granger turned back to Sara, smile flickering. "Yes, but that doesn't really have anything to do –"

"Is that cool?" said Sara enthusiastically, "I mean, being the friend of the Boy Who Lived? That must be _so_ cool – absolutely brilliant –"

"Wait," said Astoria. "Do you mean that _Harry Potter_ approves of this organization?"

"He is secretary…" said Granger.

"Do you mean we might get to meet him if we came to meetings?" said Sara, eyes popping.

"Yes, but," Granger seemed to be getting impatient, "that's completely beside the point. S.P.E.W. is about the bettering of the lives of house-elves for the house-elves' sake, simply because we as human beings should strive for the betterment and inclusion of all magical beings and creatures. Whether or not Harry would be at meetings shouldn't matter –"

But it did matter. In fact, should Daphne realize that Harry Potter approved of Spew, she would perhaps be even more adamant against Astoria joining.

Not that Astoria had even considered joining, of course.

"Erm – no, sorry," said Astoria, grabbing Sara's arm. "I don't think we're interested."

Granger's face fell but she still looked determined. Astoria wondered if she, Sara, and Melissa were the first students Granger had managed make listen to her for more than a few minutes.

"Yeah, sorry," echoed Sara, allowing Astoria to pull her away. Melissa hastened to catch them up, latching onto Sara's other arm.

Granger called after them, "How would you like it if it was you who were enslaved and someone who could do something about it decided not to?" but her voice was lost amongst the chatter of the students coming to dinner.

Sara looked troubled.

"Do you think that's true?" she said, "What she said about Headmaster Dumbledore allowing house-elves to clean up after us and not paying them?"

Astoria shrugged. She had heard worse things about Dumbledore. Besides, it wasn't as though keeping house-elves was unethical. _Someone_ had to do the cooking and cleaning.

"Don't worry about it," said Melissa softly.

"Are house-elves really treated as slaves?" said Sara. "I mean – that's terrible. Maybe I should join…."

"Don't waste your money," said Astoria firmly.

"Well, if you're sure," said Sara.

Mercifully, she dropped it. Astoria had been afraid this might be one of those topics that she and Sara might disagree on – like about werewolves from last year, or, more recently, the way Draco Malfoy had been treated by Professor Moody.

Astoria looked to the staff table as she, Sara, and Melissa took their seats at Ravenclaw table. Professor Moody was nowhere to be seen. Astoria rarely saw him around the castle, which she was glad of. Still, she occasionally imagined the unsettling feeling of his magical eye on her back, but she was beginning to believe that those were just nerves.

Perhaps he was not out to get her, as she had first been afraid of.

In fact, thinking like that now seemed slightly childish and melodramatic. Surely there would be no more trouble from Professor Moody. Still, Astoria couldn't hide the fact that she was still slightly anxious about the next time she would be in his class. She wondered if he might ask her anything else about her father.

She wondered if she might find anything else out about their past relationship.

She was afraid Professor Moody might let slip in class that Hyperion Meliflua had been a Death Eater. Because she had come to the decision – although of course she didn't care if they _did_ – that, really, her classmates didn't have any business knowing who her father was or what he had been.

It was her secret to keep as she so pleased. And Professor Moody hadn't any right spilling it before the whole class.

After dinner, Sara led them back out of the Great Hall. Astoria turned when she heard her named called. She caught sight of Daphne rushing from the Slytherin table and toward Astoria.

"You guys go on," said Astoria – always slightly anxious about meeting her sister with Sara and Melissa. "I'll be right up."

Daphne met Astoria in the entrance hall and pulled her briefly away from the crowd. Astoria realized her heartbeat had accelerated. She wondered what Daphne had to say, and whether or not anything else had happened involving Moody.

But Daphne's face looked quite calm, if not slightly embarrassed. "What are you doing tomorrow?"

"I – er – nothing, I don't think."

"Good," said Daphne. "Will you meet in the library after breakfast?"

"What for?" said Astoria.

"You'll find out when you get there," said Daphne. "Anyway, will you come?"

Wondering at the formalities – because surely Daphne could have just casually asked Astoria tomorrow – but also wondering that Daphne wanted to spend a Saturday, or at least part of a Saturday, with Astoria instead of her friends, Astoria readily obliged.

"Good," said Daphne. "See you tomorrow." And she rushed away, back toward the Slytherin table.

Astoria stood in the corner for a moment, trying to think what Daphne might want to do, and trying to convince herself that it didn't have anything else to do with Professor Moody. She noticed that Hermione Granger was still dashing about the entrance hall, now stopping students on their way back to their common rooms. She seemed to be impeding primarily younger students, around Astoria's age – perhaps she thought they would be easier to convince.

Astoria sighed and kicked herself into motion. She trotted most of the way back up to Ravenclaw Tower, wanting to catch up to Sara and Melissa. She found them in the common room, huddled in a corner with Mark and Stephan and playing Exploding Snap.

Astoria figured that she would not be welcome, and rather than try to include herself and create a scene, she climbed up to the second-year dormitory and shut herself in her bed. Maybe she could catch up on some reading – or try to puzzle out what Daphne might want to talk about.

At least attempt to keep her thoughts from again and again straying to Professor Moody and Hyperion Meliflua.

* * *

Astoria arrived in the library earlier than Daphne had directed, skipping breakfast altogether in favor of discovering what her sister had to talk about. As such, Daphne had not yet arrived and Astoria had to wait. The library was entirely empty – save the foreboding Madame Pince on her never ending bout against dust and fingerprints – and Astoria took a table by a window, those that were usually taken by students higher up in the pecking order.

Sunlight streamed through the panes. It was a beautiful day. When she had told Sara and Melissa that she would be occupied this morning, the girls had said they would be spending it outside with Mark and Stephen. This made Astoria feel…oddly resentful that Daphne had asked her to meet.

But it wasn't as though Astoria would be wanted, anyway, if Stephan were to be there.

But, if Astoria had been going then _Stephan_ would have stayed away.

Astoria sighed and looked up just as Daphne came in. She was on her own and seemed to have just finished swallowing her last bit of toast. It gave Astoria a vague sense of camaraderie to know Daphne had also appeared to have rushed to the library.

"Good, you're here," said Daphne when she reached Astoria's table.

As if she'd been afraid Astoria wouldn't be. Daphne did not sit down.

"So," said Astoria, "what did you want me for?"

Daphne continued to stand. She didn't seem able to decide what to do with her hands. She kept twisting them in front of her or twiddling with her robes or sticking them in her pockets. Astoria didn't know quite what to make of her sister. She had seen Daphne uneasy before, but never to this degree of nervousness.

"Well I –" Daphne began, and paused to warn, "This sounds silly, Tori, and you don't have to do it if you don't want to – but I, well, I've been thinking lately and…."

"_And?_" prompted Astoria before she could stop herself.

Daphne frowned, "Well, I've been wondering. I mean, about Dad."

Astoria hadn't been expecting that – or perhaps she had been – dreading it rather. She wasn't entirely sure if she wanted to be doing any more wondering about her father.

"And I've been wondering if perhaps you and I might want to…I don't know…try to find out some information about him –"

"How?" said Astoria.

"Well, certainly not be asking Mum," said Daphne flatly. "I thought maybe we could," she waved her hands around to indicate the library, "try to look for information in here. They have old _Prophets_ archived, and plenty of school records…. I mean, haven't you ever thought about him, Tori? Haven't you ever wanted to know about who he was and what he did?"

Daphne's eyes were gleaming. She seemed to have forgotten or bypassed her discomfort. Astoria had not seen this part of her sister often, passionate and contemplative, wholly human. Her sister was almost alien to her.

"Well, I suppose," said Astoria. She didn't entirely know how she was supposed to answer. She didn't entirely know what she wanted, or wondered, or wished to find out. But she had rarely seen Daphne with so much yearning. She felt if she said no that she would surely be letting her sister down.

Daphne smiled. "Great – we could start today and then meet most weekends for a couple of hours, just to see what we could find…."

"We'll start today?" said Astoria, hesitantly rising from her table because Daphne was walking toward the section of the library where old newspapers and magazines were collected.

"Of course," said Daphne, shooting a look over her shoulder. "Why else do you think I wanted you to meet me here?"

And so they set to work. Daphne told Astoria to look for any newspapers with a date before 1981, during the war where news of their father might crop up in articles about Death Eaters. Privately, Astoria believed it was a rather morbid assumption but Daphne appeared to be quite enthusiastic about it.

Soon enough they had newspapers scattered all over the aisle floor. Madame Pince kept peaking between the shelves to try to discern what they were doing, because surely two girls sitting in an otherwise empty library – on a Saturday – when they might be outside or with friends were obviously up to something devious.

It might have been an hour – Astoria neck had long-time been cricked from flipping so many pages – before Daphne finally said, "Here, listen to this, Tori:

"Wizengamot official and Undersecretary to Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, Sir Orpheus Greengrass today announced his daughter's, newly-graduated from Hogwarts Lyra Greengrass, engagement to Hyperion Meliflua, son of longstanding legislative figures and philanthropists Amyntor and Gaia Meliflua. Their wedding is dated for late May, 1977."

"Is that –" but of course Astoria already knew the section was talking about her parents. There were few others named Lyra Greengrass and Hyperion Meliflua.

"I found it in the Personality section. Look," said Daphne, flipping the page so Astoria could see, "there's a picture and everything."

Astoria stared at the moving picture of her mother, young and pretty, waving at the camera. Around her waist was the arm of the man at her side. Astoria had seen pictures of her father before. Her mother had several albums hidden on the top shelf of her wardrobe – which Astoria was not entirely sure if she knew Astoria and Daphne had gotten into when they were younger –but she was not sure she had ever seen him looking quite so…youthful before.

He was beaming at the camera, and kept trying to kiss their mother's cheek – whom skirted him with a significant look Astoria knew well from reprimands. Astoria wondered if the black and white ink had something to do with the starkness of the couple, the clear-cut lines and smoothness of their angles.

They looked very happy together. Astoria smiled slightly.

Daphne folded the newspaper and put it to the side, separate from the other piles. Astoria wondered if perhaps her sister was planning on keeping it.

They both went on with their searching without another word.

Being a Ravenclaw, Astoria had a bad habit of not being able to stop herself from reading. It didn't matter the subject matter, she simply read. It was that reason why she kept being distracted from the task at hand and began pursuing other articles that had nothing to do with her father. She would be led on winding trails about robberies and murders that had happened over a decade and half ago, before she remembered she was searching for news of her father and would tear herself away.

_Juno Vance, mother of three and husband to Marcus Vance, was reported missing today to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Reportedly, Vance left her residence in Burnkenstor on Saturday, June 5__th__, for an early morning walk. A practice, we are told by neighbor to the Vances Withandra Whittaker, that was quite regular. _

_However, this time Vance did not return. Her husband reported Vance missing late afternoon of the same day, however, the DMLE could not report Vance officially missing until a twenty-four hour period had lapsed. _

_The DMLE has no leads at this time. When asked by the _Daily Prophet_ about her sister-in-law's disappearance, Magical Transportaion director Emmeline Vance had no other comment other than, "We'll get the […] who did it." Which prompted the question of whether or not Vance believed Juno Vance's disappearance was deliberately done by some sinister force. Vance replied, "Of course it's sinister, you morons. Now, get out of my way. I have better things to do than talk to reporters. _

(cont. p 6b)

"Astoria," said Daphne again. Astoria looked up, shocked to find she had once again been lost in an insignificant article despite her resolve not to. She wondered if Daphne was going to chide her.

But Daphne was again pointing to something on a page, her fingernail brushing a picture of a night sky. Astoria felt her stomach twist; hanging in the sky, sparkling and twisting like some perverted formation of stars, was the Dark Mark. It was colored in black and white in the picture but Astoria knew, had the paper been in color, the Mark would have been glowing green.

"Early this morning," Daphne read, "Muggle neighbors to James Higglebee were rudely awakened by this curious sign shining in the air above Higglebee's house. A Magical Law Enforcement Squad was summoned to the scene, as well as several Obliviators. Muggle interference and the Statute of Secrecy were taken care of by the Obliviators while the MLE Squad entered Higglebee's house, where they found him lying dead on his kitchen floor – obviously murdered. Signs of Dark Magic were apparent in causing his death.

Higglebee is a bachelor whom lives in East Kenton, and well-known owner of "Merchandise and Mothballs" of Diagon Alley. He has no surviving relatives or next-of-kin. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement has no leads at this time.

However, more puzzling than Higglebee's apparent murder is this sign the murderer perhaps left behind. Is it a calling card to the murderer? Is it, perhaps, a clue to the murderer's identity? We called in Head and Ministry Expert of Investigative and Forensic Magics Harrison Shaklebolt to get his take on this mysterious happenstance –"

Daphne stopped reading; she looked up at Astoria. "That must have been the first time the Mark was ever used," she said. Her voice sounded odd. They had been whispering the whole time they'd been in the library – lest be subject to Madame Pince's wrath – but this time Daphne's voice sounded low and almost awe-struck. Astoria felt another shiver run up her spine.

"What's the date on it?" Astoria asked, leaning over Daphne's arm so she could get a clearer look at the article.

"January twenty-first, 1971," said Daphne.

"So, Mum and Dad would have still been at Hogwarts…."

Daphne waved her away, "Yeah, of course they would have. I doubt Dad would have had anything to do with _this_."

Astoria wondered why Daphne had brought it up, then. Surely it wasn't important. Astoria tried to push the story of Higglebee's unexplained murder out of her head, tried to banish the picture of the Dark Mark hanging in the sky – which had conjured up memories of the Dark Mark blooming above the woods at the World Cup.

Daphne groaned and stretched, letting the newspaper on her lap flutter to the floor as she stood up. She arched her back, "Merlin, we've been here for hours, Tori. It's already after two – we've completely missed lunch."

Astoria stood up as well, finding her legs and back were stiff from sitting on the floor for so long. She checked her own watch and was equally surprised to see how late it had gotten. She'd only just realized how hungry she was. Her stomach growled audible.

"I guess we've done enough for today," said Daphne, looking at the mess of newspapers they had left on the floor.

"But we – didn't really find anything out," said Astoria, not knowing if that was a good or a bad thing. Almost unconsciously something had been growing in her chest while they searched, some unnamed, clawing thing that Astoria could only closely enough call yearning. She half-way didn't want to stop looking.

"Well," said Daphne, "I honestly didn't expect to on just the first day. We'll have to come back next Saturday to look more."

"Alright…" said Astoria.

"You go on," said Daphne dismissively. "I'll hang back to clean up."

Astoria hesitated. It didn't seem very much in Daphne's nature to stay behind to do the work that Astoria might otherwise help with – or be made to do entirely by herself. Yet, Astoria felt strangely like she should not press the point. She wondered again if Daphne was intending to keep their parents' engagement announcement, but didn't want Astoria to realize it.

Astoria took leave of her sister and made her way out of the library. Madame Pince watched her go with narrowed eyes, surely planning on jumping into the aisle as soon as Daphne left to survey the damage the sisters had wreaked.

Astoria rounded a corner outside the library and almost walked headlong into two familiar and unpleasant girls wearing Slytherin green.

"Ditched your Muggle-born friend, have you?" said Livonia Mentang, smirking.

"Haven't got anything better to do than study on a Saturday, I see," said Eris Platinous, smirking. Astoria wondered how the girls always had something ready to say. She wondered if they lied in bed at nights, thinking up insults in case they should bump into Astoria in the hall someday – like today.

"Maybe if you'd stuck with us we'd have let you hang out with us," said Livonia.

"Yes, that way you might actually have friends," said Eris.

"Maybe I'm glad not to be hanging out with you," snapped Astoria.

Eris's lip curled. Livonia laughed, "As if! Though I don't suppose, even if you had been sorted into Slytherin, we'd have liked you. I don't like smarmy little know-it-all bookworms."

"Yeah?" said Astoria, "We'll see how you like it when I have an upstanding position in the Ministry and your sweeping floors in a dress shop!"

"They don't let bloodtraitors into the Ministry, Greengrass," Eris hissed – just as Daphne came out of the library.

The affect was instantaneous. Livonia and Eris snapped their mouths shut. They looked horrified. Daphne came over to stand behind Astoria.

"You'd better watch your steps, second-years," she growled. Astoria looked up to see her sister's face transformed; her mouth was set in a straight line; her eyes were narrowed. "My mother's Lyra Greengrass – you've heard of her, have you? Well, you can be sure she can make it very difficult for anyone to get into the Ministry if her daughters ask her to do so."

Livonia visibly paled. Eris's face slackened.

"We didn't mean any harm – Daphne," Livonia said hastily. "Sorry we'll just – we'll just –"

Eris's hand enclosed around Livonia's wrist and both girls fled down the hallway, leaving Astoria and Daphne alone.

Astoria felt her cheeks burning. She looked at the floor. Daphne hadn't – Astoria hadn't needed Daphne to intervene.

"You shouldn't let them push you around, you know," said Daphne.

"I don't –" Astoria began.

"I'm just saying," Daphne continued. "You're pureblood – purer than they are, I'm sure. Plus, Mum has influence. They haven't any right to treat you like an infidel."

"They don't treat me –" Astoria tried again to object.

Daphne's hand lightly touched her shoulder, "Anyway," she cut Astoria off. "I should really go. Pansy will flip if I don't get back; she wanted me to curl her hair."

"Oh," said Astoria frowning. "Okay – see you next Saturday, then."

"Sure, see you, Tori," said Daphne, and left in the direction Livonia and Eris had – toward the Slytherin common room.

Astoria sighed and tried to smooth her ruffled pride. She set off to look for Sara and Melissa, inwardly knowing they would probably still be with Stephan and Mark and Astoria would end up spending the rest of the afternoon on her own.


	6. Breaking Curfew and Other Tales of Woe

Author's Note: Um…

Hello.

That was…a really long time.

I'm not sure if any of you loyal readers are still out there, but, if you are, then I hope you enjoy this next chapter. Long overdue, I know.

* * *

Chapter Six – Breaking Curfew and Other Tales of Woe:

Sunday passed in a wave of homework that needed to be caught up from spending Saturday idly. After that came another week of school. Mercifully, Professor Moody did not seem to treat Astoria any differently than the other students, and no more mention of her father was made.

Saturday rolled around at the end of the week, just as it always did. Astoria didn't know whether or not that was a good thing. Astoria again made her excuses to Sara and Melissa and met Daphne in the library, which was again empty save for the two sisters.

The met in the same aisle they had before. Astoria pulled out a newspaper at random. The date in the top corner was August, 1971. Astoria was attracted by the title of the headline article "Chaos Erupts at Diagon Alley" and in true Ravenclaw-fashion, began to read even though there wasn't much indication her father would have anything to do with it.

_Early this morning the Ministry received several emergency owls concerning a riot that had broken out on the main street of Diagon Alley. The Magical Law Enforcement sent out multiple squads to regain order, finding that the disturbance was being caused by a mob of robed and masked people who appeared to be intoxicated. _

_No deaths but two injuries were reported amongst the chaos. Severe damage to property including smashed windows and a fire were included in the confusion. But what seems to be the most puzzling aspect of the ordeal is the fact that the MLE failed to apprehend any of the masked perpetrators, who had dissaperated as a body as soon at the MLE had shown up. _

_This strange happenstance leads Head of Department Bartemius Crouch to muse that, against all outward appearances, this riot may have been organized –_

Astoria stopped reading and hastily laid aside the newspaper, finding her heart was pattering unusually persistently beneath her breast. She felt goose-bumps rise on her arms. She tried to erase the unease that had sprung inside her stomach, telling herself that the article didn't mean anything. It was a war, after all, or at least, the beginning of a war, and a riot like the one the newspaper explained wasn't at all unusual.

The uncanny resemblance to what had happened at the World Cup was purely coincidental.

She shoved her musings to the back of her mind and snatched up another paper, trying to keep her sights on the task at hand.

* * *

The next week, she and Daphne met again. Now that the school year was again in full-swing, it was becoming more customary to have other students in the library, as well, especially older students whom had more homework than Astoria.

Daphne and Astoria began to collect their work to a solitary corner, lest they be disturbed by the other students.

"Astoria," said Daphne slowly. Astoria looked up from her copy of the _Daily Prophet_ at the sound of her full-name.

Daphne's eyes were trained on her own newspaper.

"The Auror Department would like to announce the death of Hyperion Meliflua," said Daphne quietly. "October second, nineteen-eighty-seven."

Astoria thought she detected a slight tremble to Daphne's voice, but when she looked carefully, saw no trace of tears in Daphne's eyes.

"They – that's it," said Daphne. "That's all they had to say."

* * *

"Aren't you meeting with your sister today?" said Sara.

"No. It's Hogsmeade weekend. She's in the village with her friends," said Astoria, slurping her porridge and enjoying eating breakfast leisurely, without having to rush off the library as soon as she was finished.

"Oh," said Sara. "I can't wait until next year. Then we can go, too."

"Yeah," Melissa agreed.

"Yeah," said Astoria idly. She had thought about going to the library to continue researching on her own, but the vision had felt somehow…incomplete without Daphne there as driving force. Astoria didn't think she'd know where to begin.

"So, what do you and your sister do, anyway, Astoria?" said Sara. "I mean, you haven't been spending all these Saturdays shut up in the library reading, have you?"

"Hmm," said Astoria. It wasn't as if she and her sister had made much headway in their search of Hyperion Meliflua. Astoria wasn't even sure what they were looking for. After all, the newspapers might be able to provide them with dates and facts, but to find those they could just look at their father's headstone. Astoria was afraid Daphne was looking for something more substantial, however, something they might never be able to put together from a few scattered articles in newsprint.

"Astoria?"

"Hmm? What?" Astoria looked up from her milky-gray porridge, finding both Sara and Melissa were staring at her.

"I asked you what you and your sister have been doing these Saturdays," said Sara.

Astoria looked at Sara, who was a picture of innocence, wide-eyes curiosity, and good intentions.

"We – nothing. We just talk, I guess. Yeah, we just talk."

"Oh," said Sara. "Well, that's nice."

"I wish I had an older sister," said Melissa. "I just have two older brothers."

Melissa rarely discussed her brothers. They were both several years older than her. One had already graduated and the other was a sixth year. Both had been Gryffindors, Astoria believed. Astoria didn't think she had ever even seen them.

"It – isn't really all it's cracked up to be," Astoria attempted to joke. But she wasn't entirely sure anymore. It had certainly been…different so far, this year with Daphne. Astoria's older sister seemed to be more inclusive of Astoria than she had been in a very long time. Astoria discovered she had begun to secretly relish her sister's company.

"I wish I had a sister, too," said Sara. "All I've got is a little brother. He's so annoying." Melissa laughed and Astoria mustered a smile.

"So," said Sara, "what to do today?"

Astoria honestly didn't know. It had been ages since she, Melissa, and Sara had had a weekend together. She'd forgotten what they used to do during the past school year.

"It's still nice out," said Melissa. "We could sit out by the lake."

"Stephan and Mark suggested we could go climbing in the forest. You know, the non-forbidden part," said Sara.

"I'd rather not," said Astoria primly, pushing away her empty bowl of porridge.

Sara immediately looked exasperated, "Because Stephan will be there?"

"Brilliant deduction," said Astoria.

Sara rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Astoria. Stephan's really nice. I can't understand why you two don't get along."

Astoria sighed. She really hadn't wanted to be drawn into another one of _these_ debates, but felt her lips open automatically. "I'd rather not spend my Saturday with him, Sara. Any day with him, really."

"Guys," cut in Melissa quietly and unexpectedly, twisting her hands in front of her chest. "Can we…just not talk about it, okay?"

Sara frowned but huffed, "Okay."

Astoria sighed. "Alright."

"So," said Melissa brightly after a pause. "Who wants to go out by the lake?"

* * *

Astoria was eating supper when she saw Daphne walk into the Great Hall by herself, back from Hogsmeade early without her friends. Daphne craned her neck; Astoria thought she could guess who her sister was looking for and got up from the Ravenclaw table. She excused herself from Sara and Melissa and went towards the doors.

Daphne saw Astoria when she was half-way to her and stepped forward.

"Hey," said Daphne, "how was your day?"

"Fine," said Astoria. "How was Hogsmeade?"

Daphne shrugged, "Alright. Want to go to the library?"

"What, tonight?" said Astoria.

"Sure," said Daphne. "We could get in a few hours of searching before curfew."

Astoria looked over her shoulder, finding the Ravenclaw table where Sara and Melissa were sitting. Both were staring at her, which made her feel oddly uncomfortable about leaving. They expected her back. She hadn't been spending very much time with them outside of classes. She'd lied about what she and Daphne were doing in the library.

"…Okay," said Astoria at last. "I guess for a couple of hours."

Daphne led the way through the hallways, which were quickly fading to darkness as the sun sunk below the mountains outside the windows. Torches began to spring to life on the walls.

The library was again empty when they got there. Candles flickered gently on the tables and floated in-between the bookshelves. Madame Pince looked up from her desk in the corner to shoot them a glare.

They sat in their familiar aisle in silence and began where they had left off the weekend before. Astoria noticed that Daphne went back to the papers dated in the fall of 1987. She wondered if her sister was looking for any more information of their father's death. The thought made her stifle a shiver.

Astoria snatched a magazine from the nineteen-seventies, hoping for articles about the war. The silence pressed oddly against her ears. The library seemed to be much gloomier than it did in the clearness and sunlight filtering through the windows of morning. Astoria stifled her breathing and listened to the scratchy ruffle of turning pages.

"So," Astoria whispered. Her voice sounded unnaturally loud. She almost jumped at the sound. Daphne looked up. "What did you do in Hogsmeade?"

Perhaps it was some hidden desire to be truthful that prodded Astoria's attempt at conversation. After all, she had told Sara and Melissa that she and Daphne spent these hours talking.

Daphne shrugged, "Not much. I went shopping with Tracey and Soph. I went to lunch with Theo. Blaise tagged along with some girl from fifth-year he's seeing. But she's rich, and ugly, and pure. So I guess he wasn't complaining."

Astoria almost asked if whether or not that was why Daphne was seeing Theo. Because he was rich, ugly, and pure. She held her tongue.

"Oh," said Daphne, and stuffed a hand into her pocket to pull out an assortment of brightly wrapped sweets. "Here," she said, "from Honneydukes."

Astoria felt a smile tug at her lips, immediately glad she hadn't made the quip about Theodore Nott. "Thanks."

Daphne shared an unusually warm smile before turning back to her newspaper. "What did you do?" she asked.

"Just hung around outside," said Astoria, pulling her magazine back across her knees.

"Are you still friends with that Muggle-born girl?" said Daphne.

Astoria looked up. Daphne was concentrating on her newspaper. Astoria could hear Madame Pince as she began clearing up the library, bringing books back to their proper shelves. The aisle they were sitting in was completely bathed in shadows but for the gaps in the shelves that allowed the orange light of sunset to filter through.

"Yes."

Daphne didn't answer. Astoria frowned and snatched up one of the candies on the floor. She twisted it open and popped it into her mouth, chewing with vigor.

Silence, like the wax of the candles hovering over their heads, dripped onto the floor of the aisle. Astoria sighed and found it difficult to concentrate on the article she was pursuing. It was getting late and Astoria was tired and the article in the magazine didn't have anything whatsoever to do with her father.

She wondered what Daphne was thinking, whether or not she was going to bring up Sara again, what Astoria would have to say to her sister, whether or not Astoria had any arguments strong enough to refute Daphne's.

"Tori," said Daphne abruptly, leaning over to indicate her newspaper. "Look at this – "Following the death of her husband in Azkaban, Lyra Greengrass has put forward a petition, entreating for the custody of her husband's body. Greengrass' husband, Hyperion Meliflua, had been imprisoned for life in Azkaban after being found guilty of crimes of a Death Eater, and died four and a half years into his sentence.

"When asked by _Daily Prophet_ reporters about her request, Lyra Greengrass read a prepared statement which declared that she wished to bury her husband's body in the family plot, instead of the cemetery at Azkaban, as is customary of prisoners who die during the duration of their term."

Silence met the end of Daphne's voice. Astoria didn't know whether or not her sister wanted her to respond. Astoria didn't know what to say. She didn't know what she felt, hearing about her father's death, hearing about her mother's attempt at acquisitioning her husband's body for a burial.

"Do you remember it?" said Daphne, whispering across the flickering shadows. Perhaps it was the gloom of the library, but the night felt oddly somber. Astoria tucked the magazine that was lying across her knees quietly back on its shelf.

"Just a little," said Astoria. Bits and pieces. Being frightened. Seeing her mother cry and crying along with her because her mother wasn't supposed to cry and that was perplexing, disturbing. Screaming and not knowing what was happening, being led away by her grandmother, who told her to _hush, child, don't cry. Everything was alright. _

"I remember it," said Daphne softly. "It was cold that morning."

Astoria shut her eyes against the pounding memories, recalling the vision of a crumbling grave and much-to-bright flowers, remembering the chill of dementors, who made her relive those memories as if she was again a little girl, upset and confused, so cold.

Astoria wondered if Lyra Greengrass ever went back to visit the grave. If she did, she'd certainly never brought her daughters with her, or mentioned where she was going.

"Do you –" Daphne began, but her voice tripped as though something had blocked it. "I mean," Daphne started again, not looking at Astoria. "The other – Death Eaters who've been caught, they – most of them are still alive. Most have gone insane but at least they're still alive. Most of them were in higher security cells then Dad, too."

Astoria peered closely at her sister, wondering what Daphne meant, but welcoming any form of relief from the shivering memories that drifted half-formed across her mind.

"I've just," Daphne picked at a corner of the newspaper, rolling it between her fingers. "I've been wondering. It's – just a wild notion but…what if Dad, you know – what if he…_repented_? What if he felt bad about what he'd done and that – that thought made him give up. That that was just too much of a burden for him to keep living so he – died rather than have to relive all those memories."

"I – I don't know." Astoria's voice was very quiet. Her heart was pounding in her throat. She realized her fingers were shaking.

"It's just a – stupid idea, really," Daphne muttered. "It isn't as though we'll ever know for sure."

Astoria certainly didn't know what to say to that. Something occurred to her suddenly, trickling through her brain like chilled water. Daphne had said that perhaps her father had felt bad about the things he had done, that perhaps he had repented and felt guilty enough to want to die – but that meant that Daphne, herself, thought the crimes of a Death Eater were worth feeling guilty over. Astoria found herself doused with a sudden wave of relief, realizing at the same time that she had somehow, in the back of her mind, an unrecognized corner, doubted her sister's true motives in learning about their father.

Then it was not, as Astoria had never acknowledged but still feared, because of a half-formed desire in Daphne's mind, because her sister perhaps relished their father's passed situation in the war.

"What are you two still doing here?" Astoria jumped. Beside her, she heard Daphne do the same, newspaper rustling to the floor. It was Madame Pince, looking livid. "The library is now closed! Get out!"

Astoria kicked herself forward. She felt Daphne's hand on her back, prodding her hastily out of the aisle.

"We're sorry," said Daphne quickly, adopting an innocent, pleading tone to her voice. "We hadn't realized it had gotten so late."

"That's no excuse!" Madame Pince rapped. "Out! This instant!"

They scurried through the library's doors. Madame Pince shut the door behind them with a clatter and a click of a lock.

Daphne muttered beneath her breath, "Miserable, fowl-tempered, old hag." And said aloud, pushing herself to the front of Astoria. "Come on, Tori. It's almost curfew. You wouldn't want to be caught out of bed."

"Alright," said Astoria. Somehow the evening felt incomplete. There seemed to be so many things unsaid. Astoria knew she had caught a rare glimpse of her sister's heart and didn't want to leave that behind so quickly. She didn't want to admit that she was half-way nervous about making her way back to her common room alone in the dark. "Will you – walk with me for just a little while?"

Daphne peered at her shrewdly from the shadows. For a moment Astoria was sure Daphne was going to accuse Astoria of being afraid, but, mercifully, the moment passed and Daphne shrugged. "Sure."

"So," said Daphne as they began to walk, "Moody hasn't been giving you a hard time, has he?"

"Not that I've noticed," said Astoria. "I don't know, though, he still gives me the creeps."

"He should be fired," said Daphne. "Did you know that he showed us the three unforgivable curses? It's ludicrous. Ministry decree says we students shouldn't be allowed to see them until N.E.W.T. year. Not that I was bothered by it, of course. I'm plenty strong enough to witness something like that. Still, Dumbledore should watch his step."

"Yeah," said Astoria, not really knowing how to respond. Quickly she ran through the three unforgivable curses in her mind, all punishable by a life-sentence in Azkaban. Uncomfortable she remembered that her father had been sentenced for life in Azkaban. She shivered and unconsciously drew closer to Daphne as she walked.

Torched burned on the walls and statues loomed in the darkness. Astoria couldn't believe it had gotten so late. She wondered if Sara and Melissa were worried about her, or if they were with Stephan and Mark.

Astoria jumped as sharp footsteps suddenly cracked to life ahead of them. A thin shadow approached from around the bend. Daphne paused, hand on Astoria's shoulder.

Professor McGonagall stepped into the flickering light of the torches. She was frowning. "What are you two doing out of bed?"

"We were just going," said Daphne sullenly. Astoria looked at her sister out of the corner of her eye. McGonagall was not a professor to cross.

"Usually detention falls to students who are caught out of bounds at night," said Professor McGonagall sternly.

"Sorry, Professor," said Astoria quickly. "We lost track of time."

"Well," said Professor McGonagall, "I suggest you make haste, then." And to Daphne, "Miss Greengrass, the Slytherin common room is the other way, I believe."

"Thank you, Professor," said Daphne. The coolness in Daphne's voice was evident to Astoria only because she knew Daphne so well. Astoria wouldn't have been surprised if McGonagall missed it.

"Good evening, then," said McGonagall and walked brusquely away.

There was an odd, echoing pause and then Daphne suddenly said, her voice low and angry, "Did you hear her? Did you see the way she looked at me just because I'm a Slytherin?"

"…What?" said Astoria, staring at Daphne, whose face was obstructed by the shadows accept for the curl of her upper lip. "Daphne she –" But Astoria didn't know what to say. She hadn't noticed anything particularly demeaning in McGonagall's attitude. She seemed to be just as stern as she would be to any student she found out of bed after curfew.

"It's a hard world for people like us, Tori," said Daphne, staring down the hallway, where Professor McGonagall had disappeared into the darkness. "People treat us differently just because of our convictions – just because we hold with the old way of life, the _right_ way of life."

Suddenly Daphne sounded unfamiliar, words spouted from her lips that Astoria thought would be better placed on the mouth of Pansy Parkinson or Draco Malfoy. Perhaps their mother, Lyra Greengrass. Not a girl who, a half an hour before, had been musing on their father's repentance over being a Death Eater.

"I guess, Daphne," Astoria said.

"Come on," said Daphne abruptly, "let's get you to bed."

"But Professor McGonagall said for you –"

"I don't really care what Professor McGonagall told me to do," said Daphne loftily. It was the first time that Astoria could remember seeing Daphne purposely disregard a figure of authority. Daphne usually sucked up to the teachers at Hogwarts. Astoria wasn't sure why, but it made her feel slightly uneasy.

Daphne led Astoria the rest of the way to the Ravenclaw tower, where she left her at the base of the stairs. She waved over her shoulder and gave her a smile, which flickered white in the torchlight. Astoria turned to go up the stairs but paused to look over her shoulder, watching Daphne disappear down the shadowy corridor.

* * *

Concerning the next update: it might be next week, it might be another four months from now, but it will get here…eventually.


	7. Guests

Author's Note: Well, would you look at this! An update with only a week in-between! Hope you enjoy this chapter. Pardon my French in the most literal sense as I don't speak it and conjured up the translations on Google Translate. Feel free to correct me if any of you reviewers know the language. Thanks.

* * *

Chapter Seven – Guests:

In the midst of schoolwork and meeting on Saturdays with Daphne, Astoria had almost forgotten about the Triwizard Tournament, but was forcefully reminded of it when she came down for breakfast one morning with Sara and Melissa and discovered a large crowd gathered in the entrance hall.

"What's everyone looking at?" said Sara, hopping on her tip toes to try to see over the heads of the taller students. There was a great deal of excited chatter among the students; an aura of intrigue seemed to hang in the air. Astoria found herself grinning even though she wasn't sure why.

"Sara!" came a shout through the crowd, and Stephan Edgecombe pushed himself over to the girls, Mark behind him, both grinning.

"It's the Tournament!" said Stephan gleefully. "Delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang are coming on Friday."

Stephan didn't spare Astoria a second glance, even though she was frowning at him. She wondered if he was ignoring her on purpose, and the thought made her want to tell him something nasty, or perhaps step on his toes. Astoria Greengrass was not to be ignored.

"That's so exciting!" Sara squealed.

"I can't wait!" said Melissa.

"And the best part is that classes end a half hour early!" Mark added. "We've Transfiguration last thing Friday!"

"How wonderful!" said Sara. "I wonder what they'll be like. I've never seen wizards from different countries before."

"Probably not much different than us, Sara," said Astoria, almost testily. She found that Stephan's presence had ruined her whole mood.

"Do you think they'll speak English?" said Sara. "I mean – how will we all communicate?"

"Smile and nod," said Mark.

"I'm sure they'll speak some English, Sara," said Stephan.

"It's all so exciting," said Melissa, beaming. "I can't believe they'll be here in only five days."

* * *

The five days in question passed slowly. Astoria saw Daphne in the corridor on Thursday afternoon. She asked her if wasn't she excited about the arrival of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students.

Daphne frowned. "Sure. Yes. Of course I'm excited. Listen – Astoria…."

"What?" said Astoria, immediately recognizing the leveled tone in Daphne's voice. "What's happened."

"Nothing – really – it's just," Daphne looked over her shoulder. "Stay as far away as possible from Professor Moody."

Astoria already knew this, and felt an uneasy flutter in her stomach. "Why? Daphne – what's happened?"

"He's been performing the Imperius Curse on the students – he says it'll teach us to fight it off if we're ever confronted by a Dark Wizard."

"He – he's _what_?" said Astoria. "But – Daphne, that's _illegal_!"

"I know," Daphne murmured, looking very troubled.

Astoria felt panic flare within her stomach, unaccustomed at seeing Daphne unsure. "Daphne, you have to go to Professor Dumbledore. Moody has to be fired for this!"

"Tori," Daphne snapped, "Dumbledore _appointed_ Moody. You think he doesn't already know about this? He's probably enforcing Moody's decision!"

Astoria frowned, the crushing feeling in her chest returning. "Write Mum," she said.

Daphne's eyes flashed. "There's nothing Mum can do about it."

Astoria's words died on her lips as she was presented by an odd notion. She wondered if Daphne has having problems with their mother, that perhaps Daphne resented her from withholding information about their father.

Noticing her lips had opened, Astoria conjured something to say so that she wouldn't look stupid, "What…what did Moody make you do?"

Daphne blushed. "I don't remember. He made Pansy tap-dance on top of the desk. Malfoy was singing opera."

Unwillingly, as if it had torn a whole through her lips, Astoria laughed, confronted by the image of Malfoy, perfect Malfoy, singing opera in front of a class of stunned Slytherin classmates. Astoria again remembered that it wasn't wise to laugh at a Malfoy, but somehow couldn't help it.

"Tori, it isn't funny." But Daphne's upper lip twitched, as though she was fighting down a smile. "It was terrible. Moody looked as though he was…enjoying the whole thing."

Astoria felt the amusement whither in her stomach, visualizing starkly the Defense Professor's leering mouth, a flash of pleasure in his good eye. She suppressed a shudder.

"Daphne, this – he isn't only doing this to Slytherins is he?"

"No," said Daphne with a slow shake of her head. "I've heard other students talking about it, too."

Astoria nodded, even though she wasn't very mollified.

"Alright," said Daphne. "I've got to get to class. Just…watch out for him, okay?"

"I will," said Astoria, not even bothering to feel annoyed at Daphne's over-protectiveness. She watched her sister leave and then went to rejoin her own friends, remembering suddenly that she had Charms to get to.

* * *

Professor McGonagall seemed unusual irritable on Friday afternoon. She seemed nearly as impatient for Beauxbatons and Durmstrang to arrive as the rest of students were. She let them out a half-hour early, just as the notice had dictated, but before they left warned them sternly to, "Behave yourselves tonight, all of you. I will have no mischief in front of the other schools, do you understand? I wish to show Hogwarts in the best light possible and expect none of you to let us down. Hurry now, don't be late to the entrance hall!"

"What's got her wand in knot?" said Melissa as they hurried to Ravenclaw tower with the rest of their classmates.

"I'm sure she's got lots to do," said Sara. "My mother's always a nightmare when we've got company coming over. I'm sure if you're expecting two other magical schools it adds to the stress ten-fold."

"She needn't have yelled at us," said Astoria. "It wasn't as though we were going to anything."

"Well, she has to be sure, you know," said Sara. "After all, one bad apple can spoil the whole bushel."

"Sara, can you believe they're coming tonight?" and Stephan rushed up.

"Speaking of bad apples," said Astoria.

"Astoria!" said Sara, sounding appalled.

"It takes one to know one," said Stephan, face turning red.

"Stephan!" said Sara.

"This is bloody brilliant!" crowed Mark, coming up after Stephan.

"It's certainly bloody something but I won't say what because there are ladies present," said Astoria.

"Not talking about yourself, I hope, Greengrass."

"Stephan!" Sara cried again, sounding close to tears.

Astoria's book bag clattered to the base of the stairs. "I'll wash your mouth up with soap, Edgecombe!" Suddenly she felt the smooth handle of her wand beneath her fingers and she couldn't quite remember reaching for it up her sleeve.

"_Astoria_!" Sara gasped. She rushed forward, thrusting herself between the tip of Astoria's wand and Stephan's chest. "Stop it! Put it away, right now."

"Let me fight my own battles," Stephan cried, pushing Sara aside. Mark grabbed hold of his forearm.

"Now come on," said an unfamiliar voice, and a prefect rushed forward from a group of older students that had just come around the bend. "Break it up, you two." He put himself between Astoria and Stephan, shoving Stephan out of the way and closing his fist around Astoria's wand. "I know everyone's rather over-excited with the arrival of the delegations but, _really_, there's no need for wand-play."

Astoria felt her cheeks burn. _She hadn't needed his bloody interference_. She tucked her wand hastily back up her sleeve, feeling as if she was five years old and caught sneaking cookies up to her bedroom.

"Now," said the prefect, "get on, you lot. McGonagall will have our hides if we turn up late for the arrival."

Astoria turned on her heel and fled up the Ravenclaw staircase. The door to the common room had already been opened by the group of second-years ahead of them and Astoria didn't stop running until she'd reached her dormitory. Tiffany and Aurora were already there, brushing out their hair, and Astoria ignored them. She rummaged through her trunk with vehemence, trying to find a cloak and to erase the flush from her cheeks.

Sara and Melissa arrived a moment later. Melissa was carrying Astoria's book bag, which Astoria had forgotten about.

"What _was_ that, Astoria?" Sara demanded, hands on her hips and frowning.

"Shut up, Sara," said Astoria, in no mood to explain herself.

"Can't you and Stephan at least try to get along when I'm present? Honestly, you've completely _ruined_ the evening!"

Astoria was in no mood to deal with Sara theatrics. "We're going to be late," she huffed, and left the dormitory with her trunk lid still open, figuring Sara and Melissa could find their own way to the entrance hall.

Astoria stormed back down the flight of stairs, feeling her face was still hot. She didn't know what Sara's problem was. It was perfectly in Astoria and Stephan's rights to fight with one another. There was no need to make an issue of it.

Astoria almost ran headlong into a crowd of Gryffindors who were also on their way to the entrance hall. Astoria didn't know what was wrong with herself. She didn't know where her sudden anger toward Stephan had come from. After all, he hadn't even been doing anything. He'd come to speak to Sara, not to pick a fight with Astoria. She – but darn it he thought she was a sneaking, two-faced liar and she couldn't stand to have anyone thinking something about her that wasn't true.

The entrance hall was a huddled, confused mass of mulling students and teachers who were trying to organize things. Professor Flitwick was settling the group of Ravenclaws who had already assembled. Astoria joined her house and allowed herself to be ushered as the Professor told her. Sara and Melissa joined her in line. Sara looked cross and wasn't looking at Astoria.

Astoria felt an abrupt, unquenchable rush of guilt wash over her and felt uncomfortably as if she was supposed to apologize to Sara. But, after all, Astoria didn't know what to say. It wasn't as if she had done anything wrong – no to Sara, anyway. Not to Stephan, either, but that was beside the point.

The Ravenclaws moved as a group and joined the other houses on the way out the front doors. Astoria felt clear, evening air wash over her. She took her place atop one of the bottom steps, where the other younger students were assembling. A line of first-years stood before her.

Sara was standing beside her, arms crossed and looking stony. Astoria frowned. For something to do, she craned her neck to look for her sister among the sea of Slytherin green. She found her and Daphne flashed Astoria a brief smile. Astoria mustered a smile to send back.

Sara sighed.

"Look, Sara –" Astoria started awkwardly.

"No," said Sara. "It's fine, Astoria. I get it if you don't like Stephan. Just – if you really can't coexist peacefully with one another, can you please try to keep your fights to a minimum? Without my presence, if possible."

"It isn't as though I'm the only one making the decisions," Astoria snapped, and could have kicked herself because that wasn't the way she wanted her apology to go.

"I know," said Sara, with perhaps a touch of irritation in her voice. "Just – please, Astoria."

"Fine," Astoria muttered, forcing back every retort she could possibly think of concerning Stephan Edgecombe.

"And I'll talk to Stephan, too," said Sara. "Although, for the life of me I can't imagine why you two don't like each other."

Astoria didn't answer. She stared out into the fading light, wondering when and how Beauxbatons and Durmstrang were going to arrive.

"You know," said Sara contemplatively, "maybe Stephan doesn't really dislike you. He doesn't seem the kind of a person who could hold a grudge. In fact, maybe he actually secretly likes you –"

Astoria had been tuning out Sara, not wishing to encourage anymore bad feelings. She tuned back in abruptly and painfully.

"What did you just say?"

"Maybe he likes you," said Sara brightly. "And you must like him! It's simply misdirected romantic tension."

"I –" Astoria stammered, taken aback. "You – _what_? Sara are you insane? I do _not_ like Stephan Edgecombe!"

"_Shhh_!" hissed an older student from behind them.

"He – he's an insufferable, egotistical git!"

"Oh yes," said Sara, nodding wisely. "You definitely like him."

"I do not!" Astoria exclaimed, hardly believing her ears.

"And obviously he likes you. It's all so clear now," said Sara happily.

"Sara – stop it. I do not like him and he does not like me. He – he likes you!"

Sara faltered, "He…_what_?"

"It's obvious," Astoria snapped. "How he's always mooning over you. He can't keep away from you and he's so over-protective it's sickening. I can't believe you haven't noticed."

"He – Stephan doesn't like me," said Sara with a frown. "We're just friends."

Astoria snorted, crossing her arms and feeling oddly temperamental. "Yes, well take it from me. He's bloody barmy about you."

Sara looked stunned.

"There!" said someone from the back row suddenly. Astoria started, looking around wildly. Several students were pointing to the skies above the Forbidden Forest. Astoria had almost forgotten they were waiting for the arrival of the other schools and trained her eyes toward the sky, wondering what she was looking for.

"Ooh!" Sara squealed, pointing. Astoria used her finger to guide her eyes to a large, dark shape that was speeding through the air.

"It's a dragon!" shrieked a first-year girl standing in front of Melissa.

"Don't be stupid," said someone else. "It's a flying house!"

The air was filled with the sound of similar exclamations. Astoria watched as the large, flying shape morphed into clarity as it swooped overhead. Soon she was able to make out that it was, in fact, an enormous horse-drawn carriage, powder blue and the size of a small mansion. The horses that pulled it were gigantic; their hooves pawed the air as if they were galloping across a field.

"They're beautiful," Sara gasped. Melissa's mouth had fallen open. A hush fell over the students as the wheels of the carriage met the ground, falling with a clatter and rising dust around the spokes of the wheels.

The horses pulled the carriage to a rocky halt. A door fit in the side of the carriage swung open and a boy with powder-blue robes and light hair hopped to the ground. He fumbled with something at the base of the door and a golden flight of stairs sprung forward to light on the grass. The boy stepped out of the way, back straight and hands clasped behind his back.

"What's he – Oh!" said Sara, just as a tall, robed shape emerged from the darkness inside the carriage. A smothered gasp ran collectively through the assembled Hogwarts students.

Astoria stared, feeling her lower jaw drop open. The shape descended the stairs and met the light pooling from Hogwarts' open front door and transformed into the figure of a woman. The woman was enormous and the size of the carriage and the horses were immediately explained. Astoria immediately recalled Hagrid, who was the large groundskeeper and Care of Magical Creatures professor.

The woman was dressed in black, with opals gleaming in the faint light around her neck and running down the buttons of her cloak. She shook her magnificent head gracefully, spilling fragmented light upon her face, which was gently carved in olive-colored stone.

Astoria gasped, for, besides her size, the woman was beautiful. Someone behind Astoria began to clap and applause rippled through the waiting students, Astoria hastily joining in.

Headmaster Dumbledore stepped forward and the woman stepped to meet him with grace ill-fitting her size, smiling graciously to extend her hand.

"My dear Madame Maxime," said Dumbledore, "Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Dumbly-dorr," said the woman in a deep, thickly accented voice. "I 'ope I find you well?" Behind her, other pale-blue uniformed students were climbing out of the carriage and clustering around their headmistress.

"In excellent form, I thank you," said Dumbledore.

"My pupils," Madame Maxime waved a hand to the students behind her. Astoria noticed that most were shivering through their thin robes.

"'As Karkaroff arrived yet?" said Madame Maxime.

"He should be here any moment," Headmaster Dumbledore replied, "Would you like to wait here and greet him or would you prefer to step inside and warm up a trifle?"

"Warm up, I think,"' she answered, '"But ze 'orses – "

The enormous Beauxbatons horses were snorting and stomping in the growing darkness. They tossed their heads, shimmering manes whipping through the air. Astoria was captivated by them, admiring their smooth flanks and the way the muscles rippled in their necks and legs.

"Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher will be delighted to take care of them," Dumbledore cut in, "the moment he has returned from dealing with a slight situation that has arisen with some of his other – er – charges."

"My steeds require – forceful 'andling," said Madame Maxime. "Zey are very strong."

"I assure you that Hagrid will be well up to the job," said Dumbledore, smiling.

"Very well," Madame Maxime inclined her head. "Will you please inform zis 'Agrid zat ze 'orses drink only single-malt whiskey?"

"It will be attended to," said Dumbledore, meeting her bow.

"Come," Madame Maxime said to her pupils. Astoria shuffled to the side with the rest of the Hogwarts students to allow the Beauxbatons students to pass. They climbed quickly up the steps and into the warmth of the castle.

Astoria turned her head to stare back to the grounds. Silence fell around the students. Night had fully fallen. Astoria could only distinguish the Beaxbatons carriage because of the paleness of it color that glistened in the light spilling from the castle. She scanned the skies above the Forbidden Forrest, wondering if the Durmstrang delegation was going to arrive in a similar fashion.

Sara began to shiver and huddled closer to Astoria. Astoria welcomed the added heat.

"What's that?" Melissa hissed.

"What?" Astoria asked – but then she heard it to, a low, gurgling sound like water slipping down a drain. The sound seemed to be attracting the attention of the other students, as well. Heads began to turn, looking for its source.

"The lake!" shouted someone; Astoria recognized the voice of the boy who was often the Quidditch commentator. "Look at the lake!"

Heads whirled. Astoria got a face full of Sara's hair but brushed it hastily away, searching through the darkness to find the glistening surface of the Black Lake. The usual smooth face was choppy and frothing with foam, writhing as something rose from its depths.

Several people gasped. A whirlpool formed out of the bubbling surface, spinning in the very center and grasping toward the bottom of the lake.

"It's a ship!" Astoria yelled to be heard over the rushing noise of crashing water. A mast was beginning to rise from the center of the maelstrom, rising to give sight to a sail and rigging. The masthead rose from the surface, followed by the hull, and the whirlpool collapsed, leaving the ship rocking in the choppy waters, causing ripples to wash across the shore. The water gently smoothed again, leaving the surface as glassy and pristine as it always was, except for the ship that was now floating in the center.

"They certainly have a flare for an entrance!" Sara hissed, as applause broke out across the students again, this time not encouraged.

Astoria was grinning again. An anchor splashed into the lake and a board clattered from the deck of the ship to the shore. Durmstrang students began to dismount and draw closer to the front steps of the castle, drawn tightly in dark-red cloaks that were lined in fur.

The man at their head stepped into the light, revealing himself to be dressed in silver furs that matched his sleek hair.

"Dumbledore!" he called, sounding jolly and boisterous. "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"

"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," said Dumbledore. They met with a handshake.

"Dear old Hogwarts," said Karkaroff, talking too loudly, as if he wanted to impress upon everyone how truly glad he was to be back. "How good it is to be here, how good…."

He was grinning, his yellowed teeth bared in what was more like a leer. Astoria had met enough of her mother's political associates to be able to discern a genuine smile from what Professor Karkaroff was doing.

"Viktor, come along, into the warmth…" said Karkaroff. "You don't mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold…."

The boy Karkaroff had been addressing stepped forward. Astoria felt her eyes go wide for surely it was Viktor Krum, Bulgarian Seeker. Why, Astoria had only just seen him perform at the Quidditch World Cup a few months ago. But, surely he wasn't still in school. He was – a famous Seeker and – Astoria was quite taken aback. Appreciative mutters rippled through the Hogwarts students.

"Who's he?" said Sara, bobbing up and down on her toes and looking exciting, even though she clearly didn't understand why.

"It's Victor Krum!" Astoria said, hearing her voice slip out of her throat without command. "He – he's a Seeker on the Bulgarian National Team. He's brilliant!"

"Really?" Sara hissed back, as they were again jostled to the side to allow the Durmstrang students into the castle. "He doesn't look very athletic."

"He's fantastic," said Astoria, feeling her cheeks flush as Krum passed, looking as surly as he had at the Cup. "You should see him on a broomstick."

The Professors ushered the Hogwarts students back into the castle. Astoria welcomed the rush of warm air. She caught sight of Stephan and Mark through the crowd. They were talking enthusiastically, surely about Krum. In fact, Viktor Krum seemed the primary subject of conversation. A group of older girls were rustling through their pockets, trying to find something for him to autograph.

"Oh look," said Sara as they stepped into the entrance hall, "Beauxbatons is sitting at Ravenclaw. Quick, let's get a seat next to them." Sara pulled Astoria through the crowd. Astoria grabbed hold of Melissa.

"Hello," said Sara brightly to the Beauxbatons girl sitting at the end. She was an upperclassman with dark hair and very pretty. She turned at Sara's voice and a smile flickered across her lips.

"Ello," said the girl.

"I'm Sara Hibburt. This is Astoria Greengrass, and this is Melissa Jordan."

"Hello," said Melissa shyly.

"Well, are not you three sweet!" the girl purred. "Ello, girls!" she turned to her neighbor and told her something quickly in French. The other girl turned to address Astoria, Sara, and Melissa as well.

"_Bonjour, vous êtes trois très mignon!_" said the other girl and smiled.

"How do you like Hogwarts so far?" said Sara.

"It eez a bit cheely, no?" the first girl answered.

"Oh, it isn't so bad," said Sara. "You'll get used to it. You can use my coat if you'd like."

The girl laughed lightly. "_Merci_, but it eez too little for me."

"_Cecelia, regardez! Il est Viktor Krum!_" said the girl's neighbor, pointing enthusiastically toward the back of the hall, where the Durmstrang students had joined the Slytherin table. Astoria caught sight of Daphne, who was gawking at Viktor Krum; Theodore Nott was sitting beside her, trying to regain her attention.

"_Il a l'air beaucoup mieux sur le terrain de Quiddage,_" said Cecelia, frowning in disappointment.

"_Je ne m'inquiète pas si il est beau ou pas. Il est riche et un international de Quiddageur; c'est assez pour moi!_" said her friend, beaming and waving across the hall, even though Viktor Krum didn't seem to notice her.

Sara hovered uncertainly beside Cecelia, hoping she might be again included in the conversation. Astoria pulled her away. These girls were older and obviously unconcerned with girls Astoria's age. It was as if Astoria had decided to talk to a seventh-year there at Hogwarts.

"Mr. Filch is putting out extra chairs," said Melissa, nodding to the Staff Table. "I wonder who else is coming."

Madame Maxime swept through the doors to the Great Hall and the Beauxbatons students rose to their feet with the sound of bench legs scraping on the stone floor. Madame Maxime walked imperiously passed the length of the Ravenclaw table. Astoria followed her with her eyes and wondered how a woman of her size might move with such poise.

"She's even larger up close!" Sara hissed into Astoria's ear.

A disapproving look flickered across Cecelia's face. "_Insolent_," she muttered with an ugly look thrown at Sara.

Sara blushed. "I mean – she's lovely though – one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen…." Cecelia seemed to be pointedly ignoring Sara and she trailed off into embarrassed silence.

A hush fell when Madame Maxime and Professor Karkaroff had taken their seats and Headmaster Dumbledore remained standing.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and – most importantly – guests," said Dumbledore jovially. "I have the great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable."

A girl sitting with the Beauxbaton students scoffed. Astoria leant over the table to see who it was but couldn't tell.

"The Tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast," Dumbledore continued. "I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"

Food blossomed from the empty platters and serving dishes, just as it always did during feasts. Laughter, talking, and the sound of tinkling cutlery spread throughout the Hall.

Cecelia and her friend were pointing and laughing at a teacher sitting at the Staff Table.

"Pleese," said Cecelia, bypassing Sara to address Astoria, "Who eez that wild-looking man?"

Astoria noticed that she was gesturing to Hagrid, who, with his patched and dirt-covered overcoat and tangle of dark hair and beard, did look very out of place among the other neatly dressed professors.

"Oh," she answered, "that's Hagrid, the groundskeeper."

"Ze one zat took care of Madame's 'orses?"

Astoria nodded.

Cecelia laughed, "E eez very big, no?" She turned back to giggle with her friend.

"Astoria, look," said Sara, pointing toward the Staff Table. "Some people are coming in."

Astoria addressed her attention back to the Staff Table, where the remaining two chairs were being filled by two men, both in Ministry robes.

"Do you know who they are?" said Sara.

"The one of the right is Ludo Bagman," Melissa piped up. "My brother Lee's got his Quidditch collectors card."

"He's a Quidditch player, too?" said Sara.

"Used to be," said Astoria. "He retired from the Wasps when I was only two or three. He was one of their best Beaters."

"Why so many famous Quidditch players?" said Sara, but then asked, "Who's the other man?"

"That's Bartemius Crouch," Astoria answered when Melissa shrugged. "He's in the Department of International Magical Cooperation. He's worked with my mum before."

"What does your mum do at the Ministry, Astoria?" said Sara, scooping a forkful of mashed potatoes into her mouth. "I don't think I've ever asked."

"She's a residing witch at the Wizengamot," Astoria answered. When it was clear that Sara was still confused, Astoria clarified, "She's a politician."

"Ah," said Sara, and nodded.

When the feast had ended, the golden plates were again wiped clear of crumbs, and Professor Dumbledore stood from his seat at the Staff Table.

"The moment has come," he began. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket –"

_The casket?_ Sara mouthed bemusedly.

"– just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports." Applause rang out for both Ministry officials, louder for Bagman than it was for Crouch. Someone at the Gryffindor table whistled at the sound of his name and Bagman waved appreciatively.

"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament," Dumbledore continued, "and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the Champions' efforts."

"The Headmasters of the participating schools are judges?" said Sara. "Doesn't that lend the opportunity of bias?"

Astoria looked at Sara strangely, "But that's how they've always done it."

"The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch," Dumbledore finished and the caretaker, gray and withering Mr. Filch, stepped forward carrying a large chest emblazoned with jewels and ruins.

Astoria exchanged a smile with Melissa. Sara bit her lip in excitement. A wave of animated muttering rippled across the students. Astoria felt her chest tighten in anticipation.

"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman," Dumbledore said, "and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways… their magical prowess – their daring – their powers of deduction – and, of course, their ability to cope with danger."

Astoria almost forgot to breathe. Her fingers tightened around the lip of the table.

"As you know, three champions compete in the tournament," Dumbledore continued calmly, as if he was unaware of the intrigue his words created amongst the watching students, "one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire."

Dumbledore brandished his wand and tapped the lid of the casket three times. The lid creaked open and Dumbledore reached inside. His hand ascended, grasping the base of a roughly carved wooden cup.

"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the Goblet." He added, '"Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the Goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The Goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete."

Whispers of excitement began to filter through the silent. Cecelia turned to her friend and hissed something into her ear that ended in a smile.

"To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation," Dumbledore added, raising his hand to regain silence, '"I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the Entrance Hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line."

"What's an Age Line?" said Sara.

"A line that prohibits students under the age of seventeen to pass it," Astoria answered.

"Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered lightly." Dumbledore's voice hung on the wax dripping from the candles overhead. "Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all."

Benches scraped against the stone floors. Astoria stood.

"This is so exciting!" Sara squealed. "I can't believe it's finally happening!"

"I can't wait for tomorrow!" said Melissa.

"I wonder who's going to enter?" said Astoria, scanning the crowd for older students, whom had collected into small group, whispering about the tournament among their peers.

Cecelia and her friend were making their way out of the Great hall along with the other Beauxbatons students. Durmstrang followed suit.

"Are you going to enter?" Sara asked Cecelia as she was going out.

Cecelia tossed her head. "Of course. I made zat decision before I left my school. It eez what all ze students we brought along intent to do."

"I wish you luck," Sara called after her brightly.

"_Nous allons en avoir besoin, oui?_" Cecelia's friend muttered.

Cecelia tossed her head and laughed slightly sardonically as they passed through the doors, "_Oui_, _nous allons_."

* * *

French Translations:

"Hello, you three are very cute." (Cecelia's friend to Astoria, Sara, and Melissa)

* * *

"Cecelia, look! It is Viktor Krum!" (Cecelia's friend)

"He looks much better on the Quidditch field." (Cecelia)

"I do not care if he is handsome or not. He is rich and an International Quidditch player; that is enough for me!" (Cecelia's friend)

* * *

"We will need it, yes?" (Cecelia's friend)

"Yes, we will." (Cecelia)

* * *

Next Chapter: Two weeks. I promise.


	8. Choosing Champions

Chapter Eight – Choosing Champions:

The next day Daphne and Astoria didn't meet in the library due to the excitement pervading the castle. The Goblet of Fire in the entrance hall attracted attention throughout the day as older students came by to drop their names into it. A large crowd had congregated to watch and Astoria sat with Sara and Melissa on the marble staircase where they could have a clear view of the activities.

"I heard Daniel Corner put his name in before we got up," said Sara. "He's a seventh-year from Ravenclaw."

"I hope he gets in," said Melissa. "It'll be nice to have a Ravenclaw Champion."

"Did you hear what happened to Kiddy Fawcett?" said Astoria. "She's underage but tried to put her name in anyway. Dumbledore's Age Line threw her backwards and her hair turned all white and she got wrinkles. She's in the Hospital now."

"How terrible!" said Sara. "I hope she'll be alright."

"She will be," said Melissa. "Dumbledore wouldn't have cast anything permanent on the students, I'm sure."

"It must have been hilarious, though!" said a voice, and Astoria looked up to see Mark, followed by Stephan. Stephan was scowling, obviously unhappy about coming over.

Astoria frowned, as well, but remembered the talk she had had with Sara the evening before, and how she had promised not to start anything with Stephan while Sara was there. She clamped her mouth shut, finding it quite difficult to fight back the insults that had leapt to mind.

"Hello, Mark – Stephan," said Sara, slightly haltingly. Astoria noticed that Sara seemed unwilling to meet Stephan's eyes. Her cheeks were tinged pink.

All at once Astoria remembered what else she had told Sara about Stephan, how it seemed that he must like her. She smothered a groan. She hadn't meant to initiate anything like _that_.

"Durmstrang sent all their students in here early morning, before anyone else was around," said Mark, sitting beside Astoria. She almost pulled away but then remembered that her argument was with Stephan, not Mark. She could actually remember a time in first-year that she had enjoyed having Mark as company.

Stephan sat on the other side, next to Sara and as far away as possible from Astoria.

"I wonder who's going to be picked," said Mark. "I think Viktor Krum is a sure thing, but I don't know who'll be Hogwarts champion."

"Who else do you know who's entered?" said Sara.

Mark shrugged, "A couple people from each house, I think."

"As long as it's not a Slytherin I'll be happy," said Stephan brazenly.

Astoria tried counting to ten to ease the pounding in her brain, opening and closing her fists on her knees. A cheer rose up from a section of the crowd and Astoria looked up in time to see the Goblet of Fire flare blue as it accepted another name. She caught sight of a charming grin and a flash of yellow and black robes.

"That's Cedric Diggory," said Sara, beaming, her face flushing. "He's so handsome. I hope he gets chosen."

"He isn't so good looking," said Stephan grumpily. "And all he knows how to do is fly a broom straight."

"Yes, well you're a boy," said Melissa, also bashfully making eyes at Diggory as he made his way back through the crowd, being patted on the back and wished luck, "so of course you wouldn't notice if he was good looking or not."

"I mean – he's good looking, but that doesn't mean I like him, Stephan," said Sara hastily, blushing violently. "I mean – I don't even know him and he's…older, you know – so it isn't as though…."

Astoria rolled her eyes as Sara continued to babble.

The day passed and slowly the sun drifted across the windows of the entrance hall and fell out of sight behind the mountains, splashing the sky in oranges and pinks.

Astoria assembled in the Great Hall with the rest of the students for the second grand feast in two days. She found it incredibly difficult to keep her mind on her food; her thoughts kept straying to the Goblet of Fire that spouted blue flames and smoke at the head of the room, churning more violently now that the time of choosing champions was drawing closer.

Many of the other students seemed equally unconcerned about the food, and finally the feast was wiped off the tables. Jack-o-lanterns hovered over the tables, leering with their crooked mouths. Astoria had almost forgotten it was Halloween; the excitement of the Triwizard Tournament seemed to have extinguished thought of anything else.

Dumbledore stood. Astoria smothered a giggle of anticipation.

"Well, the Goblet is almost ready to make a decision," Dumbledore began. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the Staff Table, and go through into the next chamber where they will be receiving their first instruction."

Dumbledore waved his wand to encompass the entire Hall. The candles snuffed out, except for those flickering in the floating pumpkins. Shivering intrigue fell upon the Hall, making Astoria's chest tighten.

The flames in the Goblet burned red. Sara started. A tongue of flame spit toward the ceiling, spewing ash, smoke, and a charred piece of paper. Dumbledore caught it with thin, nimble fingers.

"The champion for Durmstrang," he said, deep voice rebounding off the walls and ceiling of the hall, which showed a cloudless, starry night and a sliver of a moon, "will be Viktor Krum!"

Applause spattered across the Hall, wildest where Durmstrang School sat at Slytherin table.

Professor Karkaroff's booming voice lifted above the cheers, "Bravo, Viktor!"

Krum slumped toward the Staff Table, where he was met with a handshake from Professor Dumbledore and a pat on his shoulder from his own headmaster.

The flames in the Goblet shot into the air again, burning orange and red, and spat another slip of paper into the air.

"The champion of Beauxbatons," said Dumbledore, "is Fleur Delacour!"

Applause broke out in the Hall once again. A girl sitting at the end of the Ravenclaw table stood, tossing silvery hair over her shoulder and flashing a grin that reflected the orange light of candles. Several boys wolf-whistled.

The girl who had been sitting beside Fleur Delacour collapsed over the table, head in hands and shoulders shaking. Cecelia patted her numbly on the back, tears of her own rolling down her cheeks.

Silence swooped across the hall, all applause extinguished. Astoria could hear the anxious ruffling of cloaks and crackling of the fire inside the Goblet.

The flames flared red for the third and last time and a piece of paper sprung from their depth.

"The Hogwarts champion," Dumbledore called, "is Cedric Diggory!"

Wild applause erupted. Hufflepuff table stood as a whole, cheering and stomping their feet. Cedric Diggory made his way to the Staff Table, grin spread across his smoothly carved face. Astoria felt a smile tug at her lips. Sara shouted over the applause. "It's Cedric! Cedric Diggory!"

After a long moment the applause again subsided and Dumbledore clapped his hands, "Excellent! Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real –"'

The flames inside the Goblet turned red, ash spewing from the cup, sparks leaping into the air. With a hiss it released a fourth piece of paper.

Astoria felt her mouth fall open. A hush fell across the hall as Dumbledore snatched the paper from the air, moving as though automatically. He unfolded it. The students waited. The teachers waited. Astoria waited. The stars glimmering from the ceiling waited.

"Harry Potter."

There was a pause that meandered on. Astoria felt vaguely as though she was still waiting for something, the entire Hall was still waiting, Professor Dumbledore was looking grim – waiting.

"Harry Potter!" Dumbledore called again. "Harry! Up here, if you please!"

Astoria's head whirled to the Gryffindor Table on the other side of the Hall, searching for a mop of black, messy hair and the glint of glasses in the candlelight. Harry Potter stood. He stumbled slightly as one of his friends prodded him forward with a push. He looked…surprised, as if he had not expected his name to be called.

But surely he had expected it because surely he had wanted it, surely that was why he had entered his name in the first place.

Silence pulsed through the room. Sara glanced at Astoria, looking dumbfounded, eyes widened and reflecting the light of the candles.

Harry Potter faltered up the aisle between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables. Whispers began to filter through the silence, spreading like smoke.

"But he's underage."

"The little cheater…"

"Surely they won't let him compete."

"Well…through the door, Harry," said Dumbledore quietly, but the Hall was still silent enough that his voice seemed to echo against the walls.

The door behind the Staff Table creaked open at Potter's touch and he disappeared into the chamber, where firelight could be seen flickering through the doorway. The door snapped shut behind him and as though it had been a signal, the noises of protest broke across the students in a wave.

"Preposterous!"

"He's just a kid!"

"Dumbledore can't let this happen!"

Ludo Bagman hastily shoved back his chair and followed Potter into the chamber. Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape huddled around Headmaster Dumbledore. Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime moved forward.

"He can't – Harry Potter?" said Melissa, looking astounded.

Astoria felt numb. She couldn't believe that had just happened. That wasn't _supposed_ to have happened. Dumbledore – Dumbledore was supposed to have something like this in-hand.

"But there's only supposed to be three champions," said Sara faintly. "How…?"

"I don't know," said Astoria, feeling her words slip out of her lips but having no real command over what she said. "Potter must have – found some way to get around the enchantments."

"You mean Harry cheated?" said Sara.

"Apparently," said Astoria. "He's always looking for something to bring attention to himself."

She remembered everything Daphne had ever told Astoria about Harry Potter, how he had snuck into an off-limits chamber during his first-year and concocted some ridiculous story of fighting You-Know-Who again, how the encounter had ended with Potter in the Hospital Wing and a Defense Professor killed; how he had apparently gone in the Chamber of Secrets during his last year and single-handedly defeated a Basilisk; and last year – how he had defended Sirius Black, notorious Mass Murdered who had escaped Azkaban, saying that Black was an innocent man.

The boy certainly seemed to crave attention. Now that Astoria thought about it, it didn't seem at all strange that Potter had tried to enter the tournament. How he had gotten around the protective charms was still a mystery….

"Attention, students!" tiny Professor Flitwick had stood at the head of the room and was trying to regain order, his voice squeaking uselessly against the chatter of the students.

Cecelia and her friend were chattering vigorously away in French, no doubt about the unfairness of Hogwarts having two champions.

But surely Dumbledore wouldn't allow Potter to actually compete –

"Students! Your attention, please, students!" Professor Flitwick brandished his wand, sending out a series of loud bangs and successfully attracting the notice of the students. "I will ask you to please take your conversations elsewhere – rest assured, Headmaster Dumbledore will have this all sorted out in a jiffy. You are dismissed. Good night." Professor Flitwick turned to Professor Sprout, both looking worried.

Slowly the students began to filter out of the Hall, voices buzzing indistinctly across the air. Astoria led Sara and Melissa out and toward the Ravenclaw common room, discussing this turn of events adamantly.

"Don't worry," Sara said when they reached the common room and made their way toward their dormitory, even though Astoria didn't feel remotely tired, "I'm sure Dumbledore will have it all worked out in the morning."

* * *

In the morning the school was still abuzz and Harry Potter still a champion. Astoria went down to breakfast with Sara and Melissa, eager to catch a sight of Potter, who would no doubt be eating at the Gryffindor table with a large crowd of admirers.

Cedric Diggory was there, surrounded by a small group of people, Viktor Krum was also there, surrounded by mostly girls, and Fleur Delacour was there, being stared at by most of the boys, but Harry Potter was nowhere in sight. Astoria wondered where he was because, after all, she figured he would be basking in the attention.

"I can't believe this!" said Mark, coming up to them and looking angry. "I can't believe they're letting him stay in. There was an age-limit! If I'd known they would have let in a fourth-year, I'd have tried to enter!"

"Yes," said Sara, "but remember _why_ there was an age-limit. Dumbledore said the tournament's too dangerous for students underage."

"I guess you're right," said Mark grudgingly, but seemed to brighten as he added, "Potter will probably be flattened five minutes in."

"Oh, don't say that!" said Sara, "I think it's unfair that he's competing but I don't want him injured."

"Cedric Diggory had better win," said Astoria, staring at him across the hall. The sunlight pouring through the ceiling shined on his forehead and straight nose. He really was quite good-looking, much better looking than Potter, anyway, who was thin and scrawny and wore ridiculously circular glasses.

"I'm sure he will," said Sara. "He's a marvelous Quidditch player and so kind. He can't not win."

Most of Gryffindor house seemed to be ecstatic about Potter's acceptance into the tournament. Two boys with matching red hair had laid a Gryffindor banner across the table, emblazoned with a gold lion and the words "All Hail King Potter!" Astoria frowned; she knew there had been more than one reason that the Weasley's weren't respected among pure-blood circles.

Astoria saw as Harry Potter's muggle-born friend, Hermione Granger, the girl who had been babbling about House Elves, walked out of the doors of the Great Hall carrying a stack of toast. Astoria wondered if Granger, perhaps, had gotten fed up with people asking her where Potter was.

"Where's Stephan?" said Sara, looking passed Mark.

"Oh, he's sitting over there. He didn't want to come over," said Mark, shrugging. Sara left the table to sit next to Stephan, who shot Astoria a fleeting, maliciously victorious look over his shoulder. Astoria felt anger seethe in her gut but forced it down with a gulp of pumpkin juice.

"What's going on between you two, anyway?" said Mark nonchalantly.

"_Nothing_," Astoria hissed.

"Fine," said Mark. "I just know that Stephan doesn't like you –"

"He talks about me behind my back, does he?" Astoria spat.

Mark shrugged again. "I don't see why. You seem nice enough." Mark's voice sounded oddly stiff. Astoria looked at him out of the corner of his eye to see that he was hastily stuffing porridge into his mouth and avoiding looking at her.

Astoria felt something within her stomach deflate in exasperation. He was bloody twelve-year-old! Astoria was bloody twelve-years-old! She – she barely considered him a friend, let alone anything stronger – besides, she didn't bloody need anything else to think about, what with her research with Daphne and just regular schoolwork – especially not anything like this.

* * *

The next Saturday came and Daphne met Astoria in the library.

"Here, look at these," said Daphne as soon as she arrived, digging into her pocket to retrieve a handful of yellow badges.

Astoria accepted them and saw that they were adorned with the legend "Support Cedric Diggory – The True Hogwarts Champion".

"Brilliant," Astoria said, grinning.

"That isn't all they do," said Daphne. She pushed the center and the badge transformed, turning green and morphing the letters to spell: "Potter Stinks".

Astoria giggled appreciatively and immediately pinned a badge to the front of her robes.

"Give the extra to your friends," said Daphne. "We've spent all week working on them in Slytherin. It was Malfoy's idea."

"They're great," said Astoria, putting the extra badges into her pocket and making note to pass them out to her friends.

"Soon we'll have the whole castle wearing them," Daphne continued. "It'll serve Potter right. I cannot believe they're letting him enter."

"Dumbledore says it's because of the binding magical contract of the Goblet," Astoria said.

Daphne snorted, "Well, he would. Dumbledore's always making up something to back up Potter. I wouldn't be surprised if they were in this together, to bring the immortal Boy Who Lived and bit more fame."

"Why would Dumbledore do that?" said Astoria.

Daphne shrugged, "Because he's Headmaster Albus Dumbledore and there's no one around to stop him. They say he's got Minister Fudge in his pocket."

Astoria frowned, not at all liking the notion of their Minister of Magic under the thumb of Albus Dumbledore.

"The portraits mentioned that Professor Moody seemed to think Potter had been set up," said Astoria.

Daphne scoffed again. "Well, that's just Mad-Eye Moody; he's a paranoid old cotter. He's probably in on it too."

"Moody seemed to think that someone wanted Potter dead, that was why they entered him," said Astoria, who'd heard the rumor floating around the castle over the past week.

"Good way to do it," said Daphne, so matter-of-factly. "This tournament is dangerous. Frankly, I'm surprised it's been reinstated at all. Potter won't stand a chance."

Astoria turned Daphne's words over in her mind. It _would_ be a good way to kill someone. No one would ever suspect it as murder if Potter died in one of the tasks. Although, of course Potter was lying; he had put his name in the Goblet, himself. But Astoria couldn't figure out how he had gotten around Dumbledore's Age Line. Unless Dumbledore had helped him, as Daphne suggested. But…why? Unless Dumbledore simply wanted two shots at the Cup.

But that didn't seem like a very viable motive for Dumbledore.

Astoria shivered. Dumbledore's reasons would be much deeper…possible much more sinister. He was smart, one of the most brilliant wizards of the ages. She wondered just what he could be capable of, had he the Boy Who Lived as his pawn and the Minister of Magic hastening to his beck and call.

"Anyway," said Daphne, breaking into Astoria's frightening musings. "We should probably get going. I've plans with my friends later this afternoon." They went to their familiar aisle and sat down, pulling old, faded _Prophets_ off the shelves.

For long minutes there was nothing but the sound of the dusty crinkling of newspaper. Astoria was finding it difficult to keep her mind on their work, however. All of a sudden life seemed to have become very complicated.

Finally she mustered enough courage to lie what was on her mind at Daphne's feet, hoping her sister wouldn't immediately rebuff her. But – after all – things seemed to have evolved between Astoria and her sister now. Daphne seemed to have become similar to the person she had been when Astoria and Daphne had been younger, before Hogwarts.

"Daphne, can I – ask you something?"

"Sure," said Daphne, laying aside her newspaper.

Astoria was aware of the blush swimming up her cheeks, and the uneasy fluttering of her stomach, "How can you tell if a boy likes you?"

Daphne's eyebrows rose.

Astoria immediately wished she hadn't brought it up. She was conscious that this was the first conversation about boys she had ever had with her sister. Astoria had always been too young before. Daphne had never felt this close.

"I mean – I don't think he really does," Astoria hastened to clarify. "It's just that – and my friend thinks a different boy likes me but he doesn't! And I hate him! I mean, really hate him – besides, he likes my friend…."

"Astoria," Daphne interrupted, "you're twelve-years-old."

"I know!" Astoria said, feeling lost among the world and time and so pathetically clueless. "And I don't like any of them! I mean – we're barely friends and I don't want it to be awkward."

Daphne paused contemplatively for a moment, "Just ignore it then. Be friends with him and if he show signs of wanting something more, tell him you'd like to stay friends until you're older. He'll get over it. And if he's anything like a typically boy, he'll probably be too embarrassed to bring it up, anyway. So, really, there's nothing to worry about."

Astoria nodded, feeling too embarrassed, herself, to say anything else.

"And how many boys were we talking about, anyway?" said Daphne. "I got a bit confused."

Astoria felt her blush return in full-force. "It's…complicated."

Daphne smiled, slightly patronizingly.

Astoria searched desperately for a different subject, feeling oddly trapped beneath her sister's gaze. "So, Dad's name was Meliflua, why did Mum keep her maiden name anyway?"

Daphne smiled, obviously caught-on to Astoria's ploy, but consented to move on. She shrugged, "Professional reasons, maybe. She was already known as Ms. Greengrass at the Ministry. Besides, she and Dad worked in the same Department back then. I'm sure it lent more candor to their work relationship if people didn't immediately associate them as a married couple."

"Yeah, I guess so," said Astoria.

"Thank goodness she did, though," Daphne said with a laugh. "Imagine, if she hadn't we'd have been named Daphne and Astoria Meliflua."

Astoria giggled and turned back to her newspaper, feeling warmed by the sun coming through the library's windows, and settled against the bookshelf behind her.

* * *

Next Chapter: some time in that hazy, unforeseeable thing called the future.


	9. Conspiracy Theories and the First Task

Author's Note: Apply general excuses for my lateness.

* * *

Chapter Nine – Conspiracy Theories and the First Task:

Gossip about the Triwizard Tournament and Harry Potter did not subside as the weeks went by. In fact, it was spurred forward by an article that was published in the _Daily Prophet_ that highlighted the Tournament and scandals revolving thereof by mainly focusing on Potter, whom talked emotionally about his dead parents, trying to generate sympathy from a shocked and angry crowd, no doubt.

Cedric Diggory was not mentioned in the article, as it was made out that Potter was the only Hogwarts champion, something Astoria thought was unfair, but Sara was impassioned about.

"I can't believe this!" Sara declared one morning on their way to the Greenhouses for Herbology. "Cedric deserves some recognition, too. After all, he's the one that entered the tournament fairly. By focusing so much on Harry Potter they're giving the impression that rules can be broken with no fear of retaliation…."

"Everyone loves a rebel, I suppose," said Melissa resignedly.

"Yes, but," Sara continued as they approached the greenhouse through the gardens, smelling of tilled earth and various flowers, "by allowing Harry to compete, not to mention giving him all this recognition, it's telling all of the other underage students that the next time the Triwizard Tournament rolls around never mind the rules and enter your name, anyway. You won't get reprimanded but be given praise for your daring."

"It isn't as though Potter needs anymore fame, anyway," Astoria added. "His name is already known by everyone in the wizarding world. Competing in the Tournament isn't going to change that."

"I think you're right, Astoria," said Sara, "Harry must crave attention very much, judging from the way he answered those interview questions. I hope that, if I ever become famous, I won't become like that. I mean, _really_, you would think that he'd have thought to mention Cedric, even if the reporter didn't. It's like Harry purposefully shunted him aside so that he could be given complete rein of the spotlight."

"I wonder what will happen to him when he loses the tournament," said Melissa. "After all, he's only fourth-year. He can't expect to win."

"Yes, well," said Astoria, lowering her voice conspiratorially as they drew close to the other gathered Ravenclaws and Gryffindors, waiting for Professor Sprout to arrive, "my sister thinks Dumbledore has orchestrated this whole thing, that it was _he_ who helped Potter enter the Tournament in the first place. Dumbledore must be generating all this publicity for Potter, too, trying to gain support for the boy. I wouldn't be at all surprised if Dumbledore's fixed the tournament for Potter to win."

"Yes, but why?" said Sara, looking surprised. "What could Dumbledore possibly have to gain by giving Harry so much attention?" Melissa looked rather awed at the notion.

Astoria shrugged. "I don't know, but Dumbledore's always stuck his neck out for Potter in the past. Obviously he thinks Potter is a valuable asset to lend his name to."

Astoria didn't mention the other thoughts she had been harboring in her mind since Daphne and her conversation in the library a few weeks ago. Dumbledore must be planning it, of that Astoria was sure. The circumstances felt too forced to have been brought about by any accident.

_Why_, Sara asked. Perhaps to take over the wizarding world, Astoria had half-way wanted to answer. But, of course, that was silly. Dumbledore couldn't want to do that. Dumbledore, despite his many eccentricities, seemed to be a good man. He had spawned many advantages to the wizarding world during his life, anyway.

Astoria was sure Dumbledore wouldn't try to take over the world…by force. In fact, that probably wasn't his goal after all. Perhaps Dumbledore had just become a bit…power hungry. Astoria had read that that happened many times with leaders, that they would have one taste of power and realize they had to have more, craving it until it became an obsession.

However, the notion that Hogwarts was being run by a power-addicted, raving lunatic – Astoria had to admit – was not a very comforting thought.

The Ravenclaw second-years had Herbology with the Gryffindors, which meant Romilda Vane, a blunt, loud, and obtuse girl whom Astoria despised, would be present. Romilda was currently standing by the door to the greenhouse and waving her arms as she told, loudly, one of her frequent and exaggerated tales.

"Wasn't Harry's article sad?" she was saying, brown curls bobbing as she animatedly responded to her own story. "Hearing about how he still cries over his parents just made my heart ache. Of course, I already knew that, as Harry and I are great friends and he tells me all his secrets. I've even comforted him about his parents, before."

Astoria caught Sara's eye, the Muggle-born was looking a bit skeptical. In the past, Sara had readily believed everything Romilda Vane had spouted, just as Sara had believed anything about the Wizarding World that she knew so little about. However, Astoria was glad to see that Sara seemed to be adopting a bit of judgment.

"Did you know that mine and his parents used to be best friends?" Romilda continued, crowd of naïve admirers clustering around her, evidently hungry for a bit more gossip about Potter and not really curious about Romilda's own involvement in the boy's life. "They were just grief-stricken when they heard of their deaths. I never met Aunt Lily and Uncle Jim but I would have so dearly liked to. Even so, I think it's that link to his past that makes Harry so fond of me."

Astoria rolled her eyes. Professor Sprout hobbled from around the greenhouse, rubbing her dirty palms on her robes and assuring them towards class, effectively stifling Romilda.

* * *

The Saturday before the First Task was a Hogsmeade visit, so Astoria once again missed out on a morning in the library with Daphne. She didn't quite mind, as the search for information on their father seemed to have come to a standstill.

There were hundreds, perhaps thousands, of newspapers about the first war, and the odds of finding their father's name among the many articles was quickly becoming a daunting task. What little information they had gathered so far seemed to have been discovered mostly by luck and because they had vague ideas dates, like of their parent's wedding. Finding any other information, however, would likely take a great deal of tedium and many hours.

She spent Saturday leisurely with Sara and Melissa, by the lake and walking across the grounds, talking excitedly about the approaching First Task on Tuesday and the fact that classes would be let out a half a day early.

"Look over there!" Sara said suddenly, pointing toward the Beauxbatons carriage that was parked beside Hagrid's cottage at the edge of the Forbidden Forrest.

"What?" said Melissa, looking over her shoulder.

Astoria turned, as well, having been staring at the Durmstrang boat moored by the shore of the lake.

"That's so _cute_!" Sara squealed.

Astoria searched for whatever Sara was referencing, eyes passing over the withering pumpkin plants in Hagrid's garden and the gigantic Abraxan horses stomping in their paddock by the carriage, snorting white steam into the chilly air.

"It's Hagrid and Madame Maxime." Sara continued, gesturing excitedly, "They're talking by the Beauxbaton's carriage."

"So?" said Astoria. Her eyes roved to the two figures, partially hidden in the carriages shadow, trying to hide her curiosity. It was, indeed, Madame Maxime and Hagrid. Astoria was surprised. Personally, she had felt that Madame Maxime would be a much too _refine_ for Hagrid.

"Well, they're certainly an interesting match," said Melissa. "But I suppose it makes sense."

"Just because they're both abnormally large doesn't make them a good pair," said Astoria. "She – she's a lady and Hagrid…."

"I think they're sweet together," said Sara.

Astoria rolled her eyes, knowing that, if wizarding aristocracy was so obviously lost on the Muggle-born, there was no point in Astoria trying to explain it.

"Come on," said Melissa, hugging her arms to her chest. "It's freezing out. We'd better be getting back up to the school. I'm sure dinner's been served."

The three of them stood and walked toward the castle. Astoria found that her legs had stiffened up from sitting by the lake in the cooling air. As they were walking through the entrance hall they almost marched headlong into two Beauxbatons girls, on their way back to their carriage after they'd eaten supper.

Astoria noticed it was Cecelia.

"Oh, hello," said Sara.

Cecelia blinked, evidently having looked right passed the three, unimportant Hogwarts girls.

"Hello," she said, slightly stiffly. Her friend smiled and nodded kindly.

"We just saw your headmistress," Sara said conversationally. "She was talking to Professor Hagrid."

Cecelia's face turned stony. She cut Sara off, "Eet is 'orrible! Zat oaf 'Agrid is unfeet to kiss the ground Madame walks on! Clearly she eez only leeding 'im on in order to gain eenformation about the Tournament to pass on to Fleur! Trust me, Madame eez much too _supérieur_ to be caught dead with zat groundskeeper of yours!"

Astoria bristled, "He isn't my groundskeeper! I can't help that Dumbledore hired him."

" – Wait," said Sara, looking confused, "Madame Maxime is trying to gain information about the First Task? But isn't that against the rules?"

Cecelia sniffed, "I cannot expect _une fille litle _like you to understand." Cecelia stalked away with her friend.

Sara looked at Astoria. Sounded exasperated, she said, "Is the whole competition corrupt? First Hogwarts is allowed two champions, one of which is underage, now the Headmistress of Beauxbatons is trying to wheedle information to give her champion an advantage over the rest of them?"

Astoria shrugged.

"What's next? Professor Karkaroff bribing the others to bow out of the competition?"

"They can't bow out," Melissa said. "The Goblet creates a binding magical contract."

Sara threw up her hands. "Any tournament that forces the competitors to compete is guaranteed to have flaws. Personally, I'm surprised no one's thought to exploit them until now – if that is, indeed, what Dumbledore's planning with getting Harry into the competition."

Astoria couldn't deny Sara had a good point. The Tournament did seem to have flaws, but there was nothing Astoria could do about it. So she resolved to put the matter out of mind and just enjoy the show. After all, it promised to be a thrilling one if not impartial.

* * *

Tuesday came and the morning lessons dragged by. Finally the midday bell rang and Astoria hurried to the Great Hall with Sara and Melissa, fastening her Support Cedric Diggory badge to her cloak. She gobbled down a quick lunch, feeling her stomach squirm in anticipation for the afternoon's events.

"Look there," said Sara, "Professor Sprout's getting Cedric."

"And there's Professor McGonagall at Gryffindor," said Melissa, pointing. "Harry Potter looks like he's about to faint. Look how white he is."

"Well," said Astoria, "it's his fault for entering. I guess after today we'll know how he'll fair in the rest of the tournament."

"If he does well do you suppose Dumbledore's been helping him along?" said Sara.

"I can't see any other way. A fourth-year couldn't possibly compete against students who are of-age and come out on top."

Melissa looked uncomfortable to be discussing the headmaster in such a way. She shot a look to the Staff Table where Dumbledore was eating his lunch with a look of good-cheer about him. "Yes, but maybe Harry won't do well. Then we'll know Dumbledore didn't have anything to do with it."

Astoria shrugged. Students were beginning to file out of the Hall after Potter and Diggory. Astoria got up and hustled Sara and Melissa along, wanting to get good seats.

"What is the First Task going to be, anyway?" said Sara as they pushed through the crowd. All the students seemed to have stood and rushed for the exits at once. "They never told us."

"I don't know," said Melissa, "something to test their daring and bravery, or whatever Dumbledore said."

"Do you suppose the champions know what it is?" said Sara.

"It didn't seem like Madame Maxime did, and she's one of the judges," said Astoria. "Maybe that means the champions don't either."

Melissa shuddered. "That would be awful, to be going into this and not even know what to expect – not to mention all those people who will be watching you."

The crowd was marching toward a large, brightly colored structure that had been assembled on the grounds, evidently constructed during the night.

Sara gawked at it as they passed. "It's huge," she whispered. "What do you suppose they're hiding in there?" She was not the only one of the students for which the structure inspired awe. On all sides the crowd was muttering in amazement and excitement.

Astoria felt her stomach swirling in expectation, willing the crowd to move faster so that she could find a seat and the First Task could be got on with.

They broke through the entrance to find that the brightly colored canvases were constructed into walls of an arena, ringed with bleachers to make a large sphere. All around was the sound of babbling voices, laughing, and footsteps clanging against the metal bleachers.

It was a gorgeous day, and the sun beat down toward the large dirt-covered pitch in the center of the arena. The sky was a clear blue with a few, lazy clouds drifting overhead. It was quite warm for already being so late in November, and, despite the chill-tipped wind, Astoria was comfortable with a light cloak.

She, Sara, and Melissa found seats half-way up the stands and plopped down. Sara was so excited she was having trouble sitting still and kept leaping back to her feet, waving at people in the distance or craning her neck and standing on her tip-toes to see into the arena, musing on what could be in store for the champions.

"Do you suppose it's sort of a gladiatorial setup?" she asked. "Perhaps they'll be dueling one another."

"Oh, I hope not," said Melissa. "That could get nasty."

"Well, they would have rules, I would hope," Sara added. "Perhaps nothing that could cause physical harm. Or maybe they'll be battling some sort of monster. Gladiators would have to fight off tigers and lions sometimes."

"But that would be so dangerous!" said Melissa.

"Yes, well," said Astoria, "there's a reason they wanted only students of-age to enter. They said the tournament would be dangerous. After all, it's had to be cancelled in the past because of the death toll."

"Yes," said Melissa, "but they say it's loads safer now."

"I hope it isn't too safe," said Sara. "Then it will just be boring."

"Sara!"

Astoria felt her stomach sink as the familiar voice was raised above the chatter of the crowd. Stephan rushed into view, pulling Mark behind him.

"Bloody brilliant this, isn't it?" Stephan crowed. "I can't wait for them to start. Any idea what they're planning?"

"We were just discussing it," said Sara. "I think they might be made to fight each other off, like gladiators."

"I hope not," said Stephan, "that way Potter won't have much of a chance."

"He doesn't have much of a chance anyway," Astoria snapped, mindful of her promise to Sara but not being able to suppress every jumping instinct she had toward Stephan.

Stephan scowled at her. "Well I hope Harry wins," he declared. "It'll show all the judges that they needn't put any bloody age restriction on the tournament next time."

"What, so then you can enter?" Astoria asked, trying to make the scorn evident in her voice.

Sara jumped in hastily, "I guess we'll find out in a minute. Look – there's Bagman heading toward the judges table." She pointed toward the opposite side of the arena, where a table had been erected in the middle, under cover of a tent.

"I can't wait until Harry shows them all," said Stephan. "Diggory's nothing more than the old Cleansweep series: completely overrated."

"I think Diggory could beat Potter with both hands behind his back!" Astoria shouted.

"Anyone who votes for Diggory's head is full of feathers!" Stephan countered.

"Stephan," said Sara gently. "I'm rooting for Cedric Diggory, too."

Stephan stumbled over his words. His face flushed red.

However, their conversation was abruptly pulled to a standstill as a shrill keen of a whistle broke across the crowd. Hundreds of chattering voices trickled to a stop and Ludo Bagman rose from the judges table, lifting his hands as roaring applause erupted across the stadium.

"Welcome!" his voice boomed, raised over the thundering applause. "Welcome to the first task of the Triwizard Tournament!" His words made the crowd cheer even louder. Feet banged on the metal bleachers, raising the volume of the din.

"Today you will watch as our worthy champions prove their bravery by facing their greatest fears. Their daring will be put to the test and the judges will score them on regards to the quickest thinking of the bunch, the handiest bits of magic they can conjure, and, of course, the amount of levelheadedness they demonstrate while facing the unknown…."

"The champions still don't know what they're facing?" said Sara, sounding disbelieving.

Astoria ignored her for Bagman continued, "Ladies and gentlemen, rise to your feet and help me welcome a most fearsome adversary indeed, the most terrifying beast the magical world has to offer –" Astoria's eyes were drawn to the other end of the stadium, where men in black uniforms were carrying out a covered bundle. Another team of men rushed to the wall of the stadium, fiddling with a latch of a gigantic gate. Astoria's heart hammered beneath her ribs. The noise of the crowd grew deafening in anticipation.

"I invite you all to watch our champions," said Bagman grandly, "as they battle – a dragon!" at Bagman's voice, the men unlatched the gate and dashed out of the way as it crashed open.

There was an ear-shattering roar that sounded like metal grating on metal, flames leapt from the darkness behind the gate, and the beast emerged, writhing and fierce, folded black wings shining in the afternoon sunlight.

Sara gasped and her hand closed around Astoria's wrist.

"A dragon!" she squealed. "Astoria, it's a real dragon!"

"But they'll all be killed!" Melissa shrieked.

Astoria had no words with which to speak. She was dumfounded, watching the monstrous animal as it came into the tournament, walking with a jerking, unsteady gate, tale slithering on the ground behind it.

The crowd was frenzied, screaming and jumping on their feet. The noise and movement seemed to confuse the dragon, for it roared again at the watching crowd, snapping its mouth at the stands to its right. Astoria caught sight of a chain binding its leg, keeping the animal from charging the spectators.

The dragon was all black and muted shades of gray. Its skin was covered with patchy, lumpy scales that glimmered in the sunlight. It threw back its long neck and shrieked at the sky, belching another stream of fire into the air.

Sparks flew away on the breeze. Astoria almost unconsciously faltered backwards, astounded by the sheer enormity – the power of the animal that stood only meters in front of her.

The dragon threw its head around the stadium, giving Astoria the impression it was looking for something. It stalked forward toward the covered mound the dragon keepers had brought in before. The dragon curled into a tight spiral around this mound, snapping its jaws at the crowd and folding its wings at its side. Astoria saw a curious glint of gold among the dragon's keep.

"Eggs!" Sara said suddenly from Astoria's side. "They're her eggs!"

Just as Sara said this Astoria made out the black, circular mounds within the dark bundle and Bagman's voice rang out:

"The task of the champions is a simple one," he said, "receive the golden egg from the dragon's nest. Of course, to accomplish this each champion will have to draw upon all their strength, bravery, and magical knowledge. They will be judged on how quickly they are able to complete this task as well as the handiness they portray in doing so.

"And now," said Bagman, "without further ado, I give you Cedric Diggory, our first competing champion, against the Swedish Short-Snout!" Bagman waved his hand and a bell tolled.

The crowd's attention was drawn to the other end of the arena, opposite of the dragon, where a tent flap drew back and Cedric Diggory emerged onto the pale dirt ground, blinking in the sunlight.

Astoria thought Cedric looked uncommonly small against the backdrop of the gigantic arena and rising stands, not to mention the writhing beast that waited for him on the other end of the pitch. Sara's nails bit painfully into Astoria's arm. From where she was, Astoria could only barely make out the slim bit of wood that was Cedric's wand, clenched tightly in his fist.

Cedric's eyes fell almost immediately on the dragon. It seemed to Astoria that his face went pale. She saw him go stiff and for a moment was afraid he had frozen to the spot. The dragon lifted her head, caught sight of Cedric, and roared again, the sound grating upon Astoria's ears.

"… and he's flourishing his wand!" Bagman's voice cut across the stadium, mirroring Cedric's movement. "The beast lunges –" Cedric dodged but with the sound of a jiggling chain, the dragon lurched to a stop, roaring in frustration at the chain that was attached to its leg and prevented it from reaching the end of the pitch.

Cedric waved his arm again.

"Let's see," Bagman continued, "he's gesturing toward the rock – what's this?" The rock under Cedric's wand was spinning quickly, darkening, sprouting legs, hair, and a tail. "A dog!" Bagman shouted. "Remarkably quick thinking on Cedric's part…."

The dog was barking furiously but Astoria couldn't hear it over the din of the crowd. Astoria didn't know much about transfiguration of inanimate objects into animals, but when it was done, clearly some animal instincts were left out, for the dog seemed purely lacking of fear for the much bigger and fiercer animal bearing down on it.

The dog hopped from one pair of legs to another, hair at the back of its neck bristling. The dragon eyed it wearily, screeching softly in obvious confusion at the unexpected sight.

"Aha," Bagman shouted, "Well done, Cedric – he's making his way – careful now!"

The dragon lost interest in the dog and turned toward Cedric, who had been creeping slowly toward the nest. The dragon bellowed in rage, a pillar of flame spouting from its open jaws. Cedric dived and rolled across the ground, fire streaming above him. The crowd gasped.

"Oooh, narrow miss there, very narrow," Bagman said excitedly. "He's taking risks, this one!"

Cedric righted himself and the dog ran over, once again attracting the dragon's attention. Cedric seemed to abandon all caution and made a beeline for the nest. The dragon's head snapped back, stomping over to protect her young.

"She's noticed him now!" Bagman bellowed over the cheering of the crowd. For a moment Astoria forgot to breathe. "It's going to be a close one, ladies and gentlemen. The dog was a clever move – pit it didn't work. But – what's this – Cedric dives for the nest –"

With the sound of roaring wind, flames once again spurted from the jaws of the beast. Sara screamed. Cedric ducked, wrapped his arms around something in the nest, rolled out of the way of the shrieking fire, but –

"Oh no!" Sara gasped.

"Oh, now that has got to hurt!" Bagman exclaimed. "Takes marks from the judges, as well… Drop and roll, boy. Take out your wand, that's why you've got it!"

Cedric continued to roll out of the way of the dragon. Smoke billowed from his robes and hid him from the sight of the spectators. Sara leapt frantically to her feet, dragging Astoria up with her.

"I don't believe it!" Bagman yelled, as Cedric finally rolled to a stop. "He's got the egg!" The crowd erupted. Anyone who had not already been on their feet leaped into the air. Astoria was engulfed in a fit of hysterical giggling, the tension of the task reaching its overflow.

A heard of dragon keepers streamed into the stadium, working to overtake the beast. The cloud of dust and smoke dissipated, showing that Ceric had sat up on the ground, one arm wrapping the golden egg to his chest, the other holding his head. A team of teachers, headed by Madame Pomfrey, rushed onto the field and obstructed Cedric from the crowd's view.

"Oh," Melissa crooned, "I do hope he's alright!"

Cedric was helped up from the ground by Professor Sprout. With Madame Pomfrey bobbing anxiously around him, he acknowledged the waiting crowd by hoisting the golden egg over his head. The crowd answered him with another wave of applause.

"Well done, Cedric! Well done!" Bagman said. "Very good indeed. And now, the marks from the judges."

Astoria's eyes pulled away from Cedric, who was being prodded toward the first-aid tent but struggling against Madame Pomfrey, obviously wishing to get his score.

Madame Maxime raised her wand first and a silver ribbon floated out from its tip, drifting lazily to form the number nine in midair. Mr. Crouch drew an eight, as did Dumbledore. Bagman drew a seven and then Karkaroff drew a six.

Astoria hastily tried to add the numbers in her head, but before she could manage to carry the one, Sara hissed, "Thirty-eight! That's very good considering his burns!"

"One down, three to go!" said Bagman. Again, the dragon keepers were busy at the other end of the stadium, clearing away the mess from Cedric's task and bringing in a second dragon, this one was slightly smaller than the dragon Cedric had faced, was slimmer and colored a sharp, poisonous green color. Its smooth scales glimmered in the sunlight and it snapped dangerously at the wizard trying to keep it in check.

"Miss Delacour, if you please!" said Bagman.

The tent flaps were pushed aside and Fleur Delacour emerged, silver hair glinting marvelously in the light. Astoria cheered but noted that Fleur did not seem quite as haughty and composed as she had been the night of the feast. Her hand shook as she raised it.

The dragon was already charging, shrieking, tale whipping. Fleur squared her stance and flourished her wand, a jet of red-light streamed out of it.

"Oh, I'm not sure that was wise – there aren't many hexes that can affect a dragon."

Fleur's spell reflected harmlessly off the dragon's shining but obviously tough scales, rebounding into the sky with a shower of red sparks. The dragon was pulled to a stop by the chain around its leg. It snapped its jaws and roared in frustration. Fleur stood in front of it, waving her wand again.

The dragon's head followed the progression of Fleur's wand, swaying backwards and forwards, lazily drifting toward the ground. The dragon's chin hit the ground, stirring dust, and suddenly the entire beast shifted, dropping to the ground as though it had been knocked unconscious.

For a moment Astoria thought Fleur's stunning hex had, in fact, worked on the beast, but then Bagman said, speaking in a whisper but that hardly mattered for his voice carried loudly in the stadium, anyway, "Ah-ha! Put some sort of charm on it, has she? Very clever wand-work there. Tread carefully now, Fleur. Mustn't wake it up."

Fleur edged carefully toward the slumbering dragon, eyeing its massive head and ducking as one of its wings twitched in its sleep.

"Oh…nearly," said Bagman. "Careful now." Fleur tiptoed past the dragon's snout. Its nostrils flared. A jet of steam and spark spouted from its nose. The crowd gasped.

"Good lord, I thought she'd had it then!"

The skirt of Fleur's robes was smoking. She shrieked a swearword in French that echoed clearly around the stadium, but in a moment she had extinguished the rising flames with a jet of water from her wand, leaving her robes charred and eaten away.

Several boys wolf-whistled as the pale flesh of Fleur's legs was revealed beneath her burnt robes. She dashed forward as the dragon snorted again and hurriedly gathered up the egg. A roar of approval surged through the crowd.

"Marvelous!" said Bagman. "Simply marvelous. Judges, let's see what you have to say about her performance."

Madame Maxime immediately drew a nine in the air. Astoria wondered if the Beauxbatons headmistress had been influenced because Fleur was her student. Mr. Crouch awarded her a seven, Dumbledore an eight, Bagman a seven, and Karkaroff, again, drew a six.

"Just barely behind Cedric," said Sara. "Thirty-seven!"

"Excellent, excellent!" said Bagman as Fleur tossed her head and ambled off the pitch. "And here comes Mr. Krum."

The applause was unusually loud and lingering for Viktor Krum, famous Quidditch star as he was. Astoria whooped and clapped hard, hearing the applause echo around the stadium and irritate Krum's dragon, a red, sleek creature with gold plates running down its back.

Krum drew his wand, seemingly completely focused. Astoria wondered if word of what the champions were facing had leaked back to their tent during the duration of the first task, or else Krum's poise was just a result of having performed in front of the public many times before.

Krum brought his wand back with a sharp, slashing motion and a stream of sloppy, yellow light bounded out of the tip, coursing toward the dragon's head. The hex hit the dragon directly at its eyes. The beast let out a deafening, gurgling shriek of agony. Its legs curled in pain. Its tail twitched. Melissa shrieked and covered her ears with her hands against the continued shrieking of the beast.

Sara looked both abhorred and intrigued by the obvious pain of the beast. "Very daring!" Bagman exclaimed. "Conjunctivitis Curse right to the eyes! One of the few things that will have an effect on a dragon. Marvel that Krum thought of it now! Tricky thing though –"

The crowd gasped as one of the dragon's claws, flailing wildly in its pain, struck out toward Krum and he had to dodge quickly to avoid it.

"That's some nerve he's showing –"

The dragon continued to roll on the ground. Yellowish, milky slime covered its back and – with another gasp from Sara – Astoria realized the dragon had rolled over its own eggs. Krum darted forward –

"And – yes, he's got the egg!"

"Fastest one yet!" Stephan bellowed to Mark over the outbreak of cheering.

"Astounding!" said Bagman. "The judges will have to think carefully about this."

Madame Maxime was already drawing a number in the air, a seven. Mr. Crouch awarded Krum an eight, Dumbledore gave him an eight, Bagman a seven, and Karkaroff drew a ten – to the thunderous cheering of his own school that almost drowned out the protestations of several Hogwarts students.

"He can't give his student a ten!" said Sara. "That isn't fair!"

"And last, but certainly not least –" Bagman's words were already being drowned out by boos and hisses. Astoria wondered if Dumbledore had somehow worked it out that Potter go last so as to make his show the more impressive. "Our final and fourth champion, Mr. Potter!"

Harry Potter entered the stadium. His legs were visibly shaking. The crowd was a confused combination of cheers and jeers. Astoria noticed that the Gryffindor students were clapping the loudest. Slytherin had taken up a chant of "Potter stinks." Astoria had almost forgotten she was wearing the badge.

Potter had his wand out but didn't seem to be doing anything. Astoria wondered if he had been frozen in fear. He had eyes only for the fourth monstrous beast that had been led into the compound. Easily the fiercest looking of the four, this dragon was colored slate-gray and black, with a spiked tail and glowing red eyes.

Bagman had yet to begin his commentary; he seemed to be waiting for Potter to start. The noises of the crowd ebbed away, followed by silence and the occasional snicker as Potter continued to just stand there.

Astoria wondered if Potter had lost his head, perhaps the judges were going to have to take him out of the stadium on a stretcher. But then there was a rushing sound, clearly audible over the silence of the crowd. Students looked over their shoulders.

Sara cried, "Look!" at the exact time that several other students did and Astoria caught sight of a small, dark shape that was speeding through the air, coming from the castle and getting bigger.

The object morphed into shape as it drew closer. Astoria gasped as she recognized it – a broomstick – and Harry Potter adjusted his stance to receive it.

The broomstick rocketed toward Potter; Astoria glimpsed the gold script on its handle as it flew overhead: Firebolt. It jerked to a clean stop, hovering at Potter's waist, and with a fluid motion, the boy mounted it.

"Brilliant, Harry! Brilliant!" Bagman shouted as Potter zoomed into the air at terrific speed. "Great Scott, he can fly! Are you watching this, Mr. Krum?"

Potter made a beeline for the nest. The dragon followed the progress of the broomstick with its head and a spurt of fire streamed from its jaws. Potter rolled to dodge it.

Astoria realized her mouth had fallen open. She had seen Potter fly only in Quidditch games before, but that was always when there was thirteen other players to distract from him. She realized now that Potter looked supremely confident on a broomstick. His body seemed to have become one with the air and his movements were seamless and graceful. He demonstrated almost professional standards, and, almost before Astoria was aware it had happened, Potter had gained her grudging respect.

Even so, there should be rules. It wasn't fair that Potter could have a broomstick and the others were only allowed a wand.

Potter was doing circles around the dragon's head, working quickly to avoid its jaws. The tail suddenly darted up from beneath him. Potter dived but the tail clipped his shoulder, sending the broomstick spinning toward the ground.

Potter righted the broom and stream off to the distance. He hovered for a moment, evaluating his injuries and surveying the dragon, evidently trying to figure out a new avenue with which to retrieve the egg.

"There's blood on his arm!" Melissa cried, face taught and eyes wide. The excitement of the first task seemed to have gotten to her. She looked close to tears.

"He's fine," said Stephan, waving Melissa aside. "Come on, Potter!"

Potter had gained the entire crowd's approval. The gasped and cheered as one as Potter again approached the dragon, flying in circles around its head. The dragon impatiently snapped at a broomstick and Astoria blinked – for suddenly Potter was pelting toward the nest. His arm shot out – fire leapt at the end of his broomstick – the crowd exploded and Astoria did not need Bagman's commentary to realize that Potter had, like the other champions, managed to collect his golden egg.

"Look at that!" said Bagman. "Will you look at that! Our youngest champion is quickest to get his egg! Well, this is going to shorten the odds on Mr. Potter!"

The crowd was on their feet, shrieking and stomping, the excitement almost tangible. Potter was hustled into the first-aid tent, clutching his broomstick in one hand and holding the golden egg close to his chest.

Madame Maxime waved her wand above her head, drawing gracefully to form the number eight. Mr. Crouch added a nine, Dumbledore the same, and Bagman a ten. Karkaroff paused as if in great thought and then decided on the number four.

"What?" Stephan demanded. "That isn't fair! Lousy, biased cheat!" Several other Hogwarts students seemed to think the same. Astoria hid a smoldering, secret feeling in her chest that hoped Karkaroff's score would teach Potter not to meddle in affairs too big for him next time. She did wish, however, that Karkaroff would not be so blatant about it. Astoria had learned from her mother that there was a certain _style_ with which to do these things.

"Harry tied with Krum!" Sara squealed. "Both got forty!"

"Well, well, well," said Bagman, burbling in the background of the noisy unwinding of the students. "The Tournament stands: Miss Delecour in fourth with thirty-seven, Mr. Diggory in third with thirty-eight, and both Viktor and Harry tied for first with forty points! Well done champions, well done. I'd say it has certainly been a smashing hit this first task, and I hope all of you will turn out for the second task to cheer our champions on their quest…."

"Come on," said Sara. "Let's try to get out before everyone else does."

The three of them hastily rose from their seats but their efforts of not getting sucked into the crowd were hopeless, as most everyone else had the same idea. The crowd reached a standstill at the entrance to the stadium as everyone tried to filter out at the same time.

The exhilaration of the event had left Astoria feeling drained. She also realized she was quite hungry. The sun was already hanging low over the forest and Astoria thought it must already be passed supper.

"That was certainly thrilling," said Sara, smiling happily but tiredly. "I can't wait to see what's in store for the second task."

"I hope it won't be quite as…dangerous as this one," said Melissa quietly, but smiled. "I don't think I could handle the suspense."

"I wonder what's the significance of the golden eggs," said Astoria. "The second task – what was it? – is supposed to challenge the champions' intellect…."

"It must be a sort of clue," said Sara. "Well, I'm glad it's them who've got to figure it out, not me."

"I'm glad it was them who had to face the dragon," said Melissa.

Slowly the crowd moved, all around them people chattering about the first task and the rest of the tournament to come. Astoria thought, if the rest of it was anything like today, they were going to be in for quite the show.

* * *

I've realized it's been a while since I thanked those readers who have reviewed, so…thank you. You're support and feedback means so much to me. And to those readers who haven't reviewed, thank you nonetheless for your dedication to this story. If you feel moved to do so, please drop a line; I'd love to hear from you. Hopefully the next update will come quickly.


	10. Loyalties

Chapter Ten – Loyalties:

Astoria arrived in the library on Saturday morning to find that Daphne was already there, in their usual isle, back pressed up against the bookshelf and newspaper spread across her knees.

"Hello," said Daphne, looking up as Astoria stepped into the aisle.

"Hi, Daphne," said Astoria, taking her seat beside Daphne and wondering what had brought her sister so early to the library.

"How was your week?" said Daphne.

"Fine," she said with a shrug. "Professor McGonagall saddled us with tons of homework. Snape got angry at us all after Mark accidently spilt potion all over Snape's boots –"

"Professor Snape," Daphne snapped. "I've told you before; you have to treat him with respect."

"Oh," said Astoria, too taken aback at Daphne's sudden mood change to get angry. "Sure…yeah. Sorry."

Daphne sighed. "No – it's alright. I'm…sorry. I know he can be difficult. Sometimes I don't even…." Daphne stopped, evidently thinking better of what she'd been about to slip.

Astoria snatched a _Witch Weekly_ off the shelf and flicked through the pages at random. Daphne silently ruffled the pages of her _Prophet_.

"How was your week?" said Astoria carefully.

"Fine," said Daphne. She paused and tacked on as if she was reluctant to fall back into silence, "The professors are all making a fuss about O.W.L.s, even though we've still got more than a year."

"Really?" said Astoria, also feeling curiously wary of allowing the conversation to lapse. "That's irritating."

"…Yeah," said Daphne.

"What did you think of the First Task?" said Astoria abruptly.

"It was quite exciting, I thought," said Daphne. "But, I thought it cheap that Potter was allowed a broomstick when the others weren't."

"So did I," said Astoria. "Potter was some flyer, though. I had no idea he was so good."

Daphne shrugged, "Anyone can pull off cheap tricks like that when they're in the spotlight. Draco's always more than matched him on the Quidditch pitch."

Silence came again. Astoria began to read an article about the shoddy doings of Celestina Warbeck and one of her many ex-husbands, starting in the middle. She wondered about this curious friction that seemed to have cropped up between she and Daphne – everything seemed to have been going so well….

"Tori?" said Daphne.

"Yeah?"

"Tori, I – have something I need to talk to you about. Something serious."

Astoria looked up from the magazine and met Daphne's dark, earnest eyes.

"Yeah?"

Daphne cleared her throat and looked away, folding the newspaper across her lap and tucking it back onto the shelf. "I don't know if you've noticed," she started. "Or hear anything but – there have been some rumors going around…." Daphne hesitated.

"Yes?" prompted Astoria.

"Well," continued Daphne, "you know about the World Cup?"

Astoria felt a shiver run up her spine. She had not been expecting that. She didn't want to hear any more about the World Cup. "Yes," said Astoria quickly, "but that was just a riot. Some people had too much to drink –"

"Yes," said Daphne with obvious unease, she shifted on the floor, twisting her legs across each other. "But that – wasn't quite all there was to it. I'm in Slytherin, Tori, so I hear people talking. Things you wouldn't be up against because you're in Ravenclaw – don't get angry. It's just the way it is." Astoria snapped shut her mouth and Daphne continued, "Anyway, I've heard some things. It sound like – like maybe it didn't go quite as planned at the World Cup –"

"That was planned?" said Astoria. Her stomach lurched. She was seized by a sudden, pulsing desire to stand up and walk away, to tell Daphne not to say anything more, Astoria didn't want to hear it.

She told herself she was being silly.

"Some of it, maybe," said Daphne uncomfortably. "I mean, not really planned. More like it – sort of just fell together. Listen, Astoria, you have to promise not to tell anyone else about this."

"Yeah, sure," said Astoria. Her voice came out in a squeak. She cleared her throat. "I promise."

"What happened at the World Cup, I mean the last part. That – definitely wasn't planned. You know…the Dark Mark is never to be taken lightly. That was – really serious. It wasn't supposed to happen."

"But, Daphne," said Astoria before she could stop herself. Whispering, "If this really was planned then they were Death Eaters, weren't they? At least people who had once been…. But isn't the Dark Mark their sign?"

"Yes," said Daphne slowly, reluctantly, as if her voice had crept marginally past the bars of her teeth. ""But they – I don't think it was supposed to happen like that. What I mean to say is – someone else – wanted a message to be taken. Not just to the bloodtraitors but to the Death Eaters, too. It…means something, Tori."

"What?" said Astoria. "What does it mean?"

Daphne pushed passed Astoria, continuing as if she spoke to herself. "There are other things, too. Things I've heard the older students talk about – things in the _Prophet_. I've learned a lot from reading these papers with you, Tori, and I've noticed some parallels…."

"What do you mean?" said Astoria insistently, hearing the plea in her own voice. She felt a shiver of misgiving at what Daphne was saying, the tone of her voice she used to say it. Astoria couldn't put her finger on why, but she was suddenly afraid.

"It's just –" Daphne struggled for a minute to find the right words. Finally she said, "You know what side we're on, right, Tori?"

Astoria looked into Daphne's eyes, dark and serious and searching. Astoria tried hastily to decide how she should answer.

"Well…yes," she said finally. "Of course. I'm on – your side. Yours and Mum's. And the Ministry, I guess. I'm on the Ministry's side."

Daphne paused and looked at Astoria. Her eyes were deep. There seemed to be something hiding behind her irises, something that spoke – that made Astoria want to look away, to crawl into a corner and hug her knees to her chest.

"Mum supports Lucius Malfoy," said Daphne. Her words hung on the air, on the dust disturbed by their searching. Astoria listened to them rebounding inside her skull and realized she didn't quite know what Daphne meant.

"What side is Lucius Malfoy on?" As soon as Astoria heard the words slip out of her lips she knew it was a mistake. It wasn't any of her business. Lucius Malfoy was not a man to question. He had…connections.

Daphne looked away. Her mouth opened and for a moment paused, as if teetering on which answer she should give Astoria. "Not on Dumbledore's," she said finally.

"He's never been on Dumbledore's," said Astoria, resisting the urge to say _I knew that_. "Mum's never been on Dumbledore's side either. She's always opposed what he's doing at Hogwarts –"

"I know," said Daphne sharply. She paused, taking a deep breath. Astoria waited. "But…I don't know what side the Ministry is on." She spoke quietly, as if she was afraid the books might eavesdrop.

"You mean…" said Astoria.

"I mean," Daphne intercut, "that Fudge is in Dumbledore's pocket. If ever there should be a…reason for people to pick sides, I don't know on which side the Ministry would choose. But Mum – Mum has always supported Lucius Malfoy and I think she will continue to do so. Even if…."

"Even if Lucius Malfoy doesn't support the Ministry?" Astoria's voice came out in a hiss. The full impact of what Daphne was saying finally hit her. Astoria felt her stomach wrench. Her mother – their mother – not support the Ministry? The thought was astronomical, almost ridiculous…yet, the way that Daphne said it was so convincing.

"But this is all theoretical, right?" said Astoria quickly. "I mean – there's no reason to think that that sort of a decision would ever come up. Anyway, Mum's for the cooperation of the Ministry; she'd want us all to stick together."

"Mum's for the continuation of the old regime," said Daphne flatly. "So is Lucius Malfoy. Everyone knows Dumbledore isn't – and he's trying to get the Ministry to go along with him as well."

"But Mum – Mum's pretty passive, isn't she?" said Astoria hesitantly, trying and failing to conjure up a picture of her mother as some sort of renegade revolutionary.

Daphne nodded slowly. "That's true. I don't think Mum would ever actively express dissent with the Ministry, but there are other, subtler ways one can oppose the government in politics. But, that's beside the point. I just wanted to know if you understood our situation."

"Of course I do, Daphne –" Astoria started but was cut off once again by Daphne.

"You have to know which side your family's on. That's vital, Tori. You can't go around giving people mixed messages about your loyalty."

"I…don't," said Astoria reluctantly, feeling a squirming in her stomach that had everything to do with Sara Hibburt. "But, what does it really matter, Daphne? Why – why would it matter what message I give other people – I mean, no one looks at me – it isn't as though what I do reflects on Mum. I'm – a twelve-year-old schoolgirl."

Daphne's eyes grabbed hold of Astoria's again. Astoria felt her words trickle to a stop off her lips.

"You never know what might matter," said Daphne slowly. "Someday all this might matter a great deal, more than either of us can imagine."

* * *

That Monday morning was double Potions with the Slytherins. Always a struggle, but this morning made worse by Livonia Mentang and Eris Platinous, whom had once again – by some unknown reason – become interested in making Astoria's life miserable.

It had been some weeks since Astoria had had to deal with the two Slytherins; she had been beginning to think that Daphne's influence had made Livonia and Eris leave Astoria alone. Apparently, however, she was mistaken.

"Still hiding behind your sister's skirts?" hissed Eris, voice almost hidden by the roiling of her potion inside her cauldron.

"I never hid behind Daphne!" Astoria snapped, forgetting to keep her voice down.

"I do not believe I gave any of you permission to speak," said Snape dangerously at the head of the class. He seemed to be in a foul mood. Then again, he was rarely in a mood of anything else.

"You seemed all too inclined to let her step in the other day," Eris said after a beat of silence, waiting for Professor Snape to turn his back, writing a list of ingredients on the blackboard.

"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself," Astoria growled, watching Snape carefully, being sure she didn't attract his attention, "especially when dealing with imbeciles like you."

"Imbeciles!" said Livonia loudly and indignantly. Eris quieted her friend with a wave of her hand and an exasperated look, also keeping an eye on Snape.

Sara and Melissa were watching the exchange warily.

"I wouldn't be so cocky if I were you, Greengrass," said Eris. "Mummy and older sister aren't here to protect you."

"I've told you – I don't need –"

"Unless you're going to write home, telling Mummy all about it," Eris continued to speak in a quiet, carefully measure tone, keeping her eyes on her work so that if Professor Snape should look over he might think she was only muttering incantations over her potion.

Astoria's blood boiled. She tried to smother her anger, telling herself that Eris was only doing this to get under Astoria's skin, perhaps to provoke her enough to get her into trouble with Snape.

"I wouldn't like to trouble my mother about anything so trivial as you," said Astoria, trying to summon something truly biting to say and knowing she was failing miserably. "She has more important things on her mind, you know."

Eris raised her eyebrows, eyes on the dried Snarguluff leaf she was chopping. "For someone who doesn't need to hide behind her mother's reputation, you certainly seem ready to remind me of her importance."

"I didn't know Ravenclaws were cowards as well as know-it-alls," intercut Livonia.

"_Cowards_," said Astoria, just barely remembering to keep her voice down, gripping her ladle hard to stifle the shaking of her fingers. "I wouldn't speak so easily of _cowards_, Mentang. I remember how white you went when you saw Daphne come up behind me."

Livonia's eyes flashed.

"Now…girls…" said Sara tentatively beside Astoria.

Astoria felt a flash of annoyance. Sometimes she wished the Muggle-born would just _stay out of it_.

"Playing little miss goody-two-shoes again, Hibburt?" hissed Livonia.

Sara bristled, "You're going to get us all into trouble."

"Professor Snape won't get _us_ into trouble," said Eris. "I'd worry about your own skin, Hibburt. Snape doesn't like Mudbloods."

Astoria dropped her ladle. It clanged against the side of her cauldron and sank to the bottom of her bubbling potion.

"I've – told you – don't use that –" Astoria struggled against her rage and her need to keep her voice below a whisper.

Eris smiled, eyes still infuriatingly on her work. "You're sister says "Mudblood" all the time, Greengrass."

Astoria could hear her heart beating loudly in her ears. That wasn't true – Daphne – but it _was_ true. Astoria knew, deep in her mind, that it _was_ true. At least to an extent that if Daphne didn't use the word herself than she didn't at all mind if people around her did.

"Mudblood, Mudblood, Mudblood," cackled Livonia, smiling almost manically, exhilarated by her and Eris's apparent victory.

Sara was looking confused. Astoria wondered if Sara didn't, in fact, even know the true connotations of the word.

"Shut up," said Astoria unconvincingly. She tried to stifle the frustrated, almost panicked feeling that was rising in her chest, one of self-doubt and horrible exasperation with herself. She had gotten over this first-year; she wasn't supposed to care what Daphne felt about her friendship with Sara. Astoria had – had accepted that Sara was a Muggle-born witch and wasn't going to let it bother her anymore.

But suddenly Daphne's words, spoken in the library like a forewarning, only two days before came back loudly and insistently in Astoria's ears: _You have to know which side your family's on. That's vital, Tori. You can't go around giving people mixed messages about your loyalty._

"Hey!" Astoria jumped at the bold and angry voice from her side. "Hey, what did you just call her?"

It was Stephan. Astoria felt her heart sink. He seemed to totally disregard the fact that Professor Snape would hear him; in fact, he walked away from his potion altogether and stalked up to Livonia's table, face red.

"Coming to the defense of your girlfriend, Edgecombe?" simpered Livonia. Eris was looking uncomfortable. She shot a look to the head of the classroom and pulled backward slightly, evidently prepared to let her friend take the fall.

"You don't ever call her that again, do you hear me?" said Stephan.

"…Stephan, _shhhh_!" squeaked Sara.

"Silence," said Snape, marching up to their tables, black cloak swinging behind him. "I will not have your petty squabbling take place in my classroom."

"Did you hear her?" demanded Stephan of Snape. "She called Sara a Mudblood! That shouldn't be allowed! You can't let that pass –"

"I said _silence_, Mr. Edgecombe," hissed Snape. "Five points from Ravenclaw."

"You – you – biased –" stammered Stephan.

"Stephan, _shut up_!" said Sara insistently.

"I suggest you listen to Miss Hibburt, Mr. Edgecombe," said Snape poisonously, "or else you will find that I am perfectly capable to take from you something other than points."

Stephan clamped his mouth shut, seething but knowing to proceed would be folly. Sara's expression was one of exasperation crossed with relief. Livonia and Eris looked smug. Astoria hovered uncertainly over her cauldron, hating Snape but hating that she really couldn't intercede – there wasn't anything she could say – she didn't want to get into trouble. She – Why did Stephan have to step in? She – it was Livonia and Eris who'd started it all. And Sara – Sara who was so innocent, so mind-bogglingly good-willed…. And Daphne who had made things just so much more confusing –

Snape stalked away, telling Stephan to get back to his cauldron. Stephan glared at Eris and Livonia. "You Slytherins stay out of our way!" he spat. His eyes flickered nastily over Astoria and abruptly she knew that he was including her in his generalization.

Astoria felt her stomach roiling with anger. To be included with the Slytherins was something she had thought she'd always wanted, but now she was so terribly uncertain. She was positive, however, that she did not want to be included with Slytherins in the way Stephan meant. She didn't want to be grouped together with Livonia Mentang and Eris Platinous, who were sniveling and low and petty. Astoria was better than that. She was better than Livonia and Eris. She was better than Stephan, who hadn't any right –

Astoria's throat collapsed and suddenly she couldn't breathe. With a whirring sense of panic, Astoria realized she was about to start crying. She was tired and frustrated and so dreadfully confused.

The rest of Potions class trickled so slowly it seemed to harbor lingering hostility. Astoria choked back her tears and eventually fled the dungeon classroom with scratchy eyes, an aching chest, feeling irritable.

"Stephan," said Sara quietly as the Ravenclaw second-years made their way toward the Great Hall for lunch. "I appreciate you always standing up for me but, really, in some cases it might be better to keep out of it."

"I'm not about to let those Slytherins get away with treating you like filth," said Stephan fiercely.

"Yes, but Stephan," said Sara. "Sometimes your interference can do more harm than good. In this case, for example, you could have gotten into serious trouble with Professor Snape –"

"I don't care!" said Stephan ardently. "Snape can go stuff it. After all, _someone_ has to look out for you." Again, Stephan's eyes traveled to Astoria, daring her to respond.

Astoria had just about had enough. "Shut up, Edgecombe," she hissed, almost before she could make the decision to speak. She was fed up with Stephan's lies and insinuations.

"I thought I've told you before that I want you _Slytherins_ to leave us alone," spat Stephan.

"Stephan!" Sara cried. "_Please_! Astoria isn't a Slytherin –"

"She's just as bad as one!" shouted Stephan. "Don't you see how she treats you, Sara? She doesn't think of you as a friend! She thinks of you as something she can boss around and use whenever she needs –"

"Shut up!" yelled Astoria, at the very same time that Sara squealed, "Stephan, stop it!"

Stephan turned to Astoria, eyes popping. "I've told you time and time again to leave Sara alone –"

"No _you –_" Astoria's throat was burning. "You leave me alone!"

"Stop pretending!" Stephan shouted. "Admit it, you don't care about Sara at all!"

"It isn't true!" said Sara, her eyes glistening.

"That isn't true!" shouted Astoria, realizing she was shaking. "I – I do care –"

"See!" shouted Stephan manically. "See? She can't even get the words out without thinking about it! She's too loyal to her Slytherin family to be a friend of a Muggle-born –"

"Stephan, stop it," said Sara weakly.

Something was screaming inside of Astoria's head, something that was making it hard for her to think. _Shut up_, she told the pounding in her mind. _Shut up!_ "Shut up! Shut up! _Shut up_!" The other Ravenclaw second-years had paused and were watching the fight with wide eyes.

Melissa had pressed herself against the wall. Mark stood uncertainly, half a pace behind Stephan, evidently watching to see if he'd have to grab his friend to keep Stephan from launching himself at Astoria.

"Stop denying it!" Stephan bellowed.

Something had broken inside Astoria, something the allowed the waters to pour out, gushing from her lips, "That isn't true! I don't care about – I don't care! But – you – leave me alone! I don't owe _you_ – of course I care about Sara, and I – I –"

"You liar!" said Stephan, stepping forward, face darkening. "You're just playing with her!" he waved his hand, indicating Sara. "You just want people to look at you in a good light so you pretend you don't care that she's Muggle-born when you're with us and then play the good Slytherin when you're with your sister. You're a two-faced, bigoted, liar –"

"Stephan, shut up!" shouted Sara suddenly and loudly and her voice rebounded off the walls of the corridor, slapping Stephan in the face so that he almost stumbled. "Stop pretending like you know who Astoria is!" Sara continued. "Because you don't! Astoria's my friend and I don't want you talking like that about her –"

"She isn't your friend!" yelled Stephan. "Her family's a bunch of pure-blood supremacists and it isn't possible for one of those to be friends with a Muggle-born. Can't you see that, Sara? She's a liar and a coward –"

Astoria had had enough. She shrieked in frustration and rage and charged at Stephan. Her palms met his chest firmly and she shoved him with all her strength. It was then that she realized that Stephan had grown several inches taller than her over the course of the year and her attack only managed to make him stumble slightly. Mark caught him and pushed him back to his feet.

Within the coursing anger in her head, Astoria was aware of her watching classmates. Suddenly she was very conscious of what she had just done. She had actually been provoked to bodily attack – using a _Muggle_ form of dueling – her mother would be so horribly disappointed. Astoria stumbled backwards, watching as Stephan's expression of shock turned to rage.

Astoria felt the block in her throat give way and suddenly tears were streaming down her face. She tripped over her feet as she dashed away, knowing she was a coward for running but somehow she had completely lost control of herself. She slammed into Tiffany Lanesingly as she struggled to run out of the ring of spectators.

Astoria didn't stop running until she had fled down an empty corridor and her pattering feet was the only thing she could hear. Then she found a girls' lavatory and tried to compose herself.

Tears continued to slip stubbornly down her face. Shame bubbled in her chest. She had just made a complete, unforgivable fool of herself.

Stephan's words pounded repetitively in Astoria's mind: _two-faced, bigoted, liar. Coward._ They joined with Daphne's voice to form a perverse duet, taunting Astoria, drowning out her own thoughts until all she wanted to do was scream.

She'd thought before that nothing Stephan said could possibly hurt her anymore, but now Astoria knew she'd only been fooling herself.

In the course of only a few days everything had gotten so terribly confusing, issues that Astoria had thought had been laid to rest had been risen again with pointed cruelty.

Astoria couldn't bear to have what had happened the previous year happen again this year. Just after Christmas Astoria had made the mistake of siding with Eris and Livonia against Sara and word had gotten around to the rest of Ravenclaw first-years. Astoria had found herself suddenly at the very bottom of the hierarchy. It had seemed as if everyone had hated her. No one had been willing to sit with her, talk with her, laugh with her.

It had been one of the most horrible experiences of Astoria's life and she thought she would do anything – anything – to prevent it from happening again.

But Daphne. Daphne had warned Astoria that loyalty to her family was everything. Was Astoria being disloyal to her family by being Sara Hibburt's friend? Was it really so bad as that? Did Astoria have to choose one over another?

If what Daphne said was true – if it did correlate to Sara – then being friends with Sara as Astoria was now would mean Astoria would have to fully cast off her family's ideals, fully give herself over to the other side, walk away from her mother and her sister, choose friendship over family – over blood.

Astoria…Astoria couldn't do that.

Perhaps she could just shut it from mind, go on living in a kind of limbo, choosing neither side over the other. She could simply allow herself to be friends with Sara and at the same time hide that friendship from Daphne and her mother. She could give herself a door to both worlds…just in case.

But no. No, that wouldn't work. Every time Astoria thought of Sara, when she pictured her sweet, innocent face with wide, unsuspecting eyes she felt an unquenchable, trembling sense of guilt, of shame, of…of a kind of deep, shuddering sadness – something that, perhaps, Sara might feel if she ever discovered these secret feelings of Astoria's. The feelings of a loss of a friend, the betrayal of someone you held close. No. Astoria couldn't hide this. She couldn't live treading the narrow fencepost for the rest of her life… but she… what else, then, could she do?

"Astoria?"

Astoria jumped, thinking irrationally to dive into a stall to hide. But it was too late – the door to the girls' lavatory opened and Sara stepped through, looking uncertain but achingly sympathetic.

Astoria wanted to yell at Sara to leave her alone.

Sara's eyes fell on Astoria. Astoria looked back and wiped her cheeks, wishing she had thought to dry her eyes before now. She probably looked like a mess, a complete fool….

"Astoria, are you alright?"

"Fine," Astoria snapped. She checked her tone, breathing deeply, willing herself not to lose control, to hide her feelings as her mother and her sister were so adept at doing. "I'm fine."

Sara shuffled her feet, "You – you shouldn't pay attention to what Stephan said, Astoria. He was – angry. He didn't know what he was saying."

"Yes he did," said Astoria bitterly.

Sara's face fell. "I guess…I guess, yeah." She sunk to the floor, leaning her back against the wall of closed stalls, fingering a corner of broken tile. She looked small and defeated. "Is this the reason you and Stephan have been fighting all this time?" she said quietly.

Astoria's feet carried her over to Sara. She sat down beside her. "I guess so. Yeah. I'm sorry, I didn't want you to know."

"I – why don't you just explain to Stephan that you – that you aren't like what he thinks you are?" said Sara.

Astoria didn't know what to say. She didn't know how to explain it to Sara. She felt guilt trickle into her stomach, churning until a feeling of nausea rose in her throat.

"Stephan shouldn't have said those things," said Sara. "They weren't true. I know they weren't true."

Suddenly Sara's arm was around Astoria's shoulder. Astoria was taken aback by this unexpected sign of friendship and almost pulled away. Astoria couldn't stifle the thoughts and confusion that had risen to the forefront of her mind. Astoria couldn't voice the doubts that had suddenly been raised concerning Sara and their friendship. Astoria couldn't explain to Sara about the importance of being loyal to her family, how she couldn't just walk away from that, even if it meant shunting aside –

But Sara didn't deserve this. Sara deserved a friend who was sure of their friendship, who was certain of loyalty to _her. _Astoria wasn't worthy of Sara's friendship while she was still uncertain of whether or not this friendship was in Astoria's best interest. Astoria wasn't worthy of Sara's sympathy.

"Sara…." Sara listened patiently as Astoria furiously wracked her brain, trying to say something, anything with which to alleviate this crushing guilt she felt within her stomach. But her mind came up blank and she struggled to her feet. "Sara, we should go. Lunch is – class starts in a little while. We should hurry if we want to get something to eat."

"Oh," said Sara, surprised, but also getting to her feet. "If you're sure you're alright, Astoria."

"Yeah," said Astoria, slipping a smile onto her face as she'd seen her mother do many times. "Of course I'm alright… thank you."

Sara matched Astoria's smile. She grabbed her into a tight hug. "I'm glad. I don't want you to be hurt on account of me."

Astoria stared over Sara's shoulder and tried to return her hug, relieved that she no longer had to be concerned about staring in Sara's eyes and let her lips relax, smiling trickling back off her face.

* * *

Author's Note: I'd originally not intended for this interior conflict to crop up again in Astoria until after Christmas but, meh, the characters decided otherwise.

Next chapter, next week.


	11. Twelve Days of Christmas

Chapter Eleven – Twelve Days of Christmas:

A chill wind brought snow to the grounds with the beginning of December. No one made mention of Astoria and Stephan's argument, in fact, it was so seamlessly ignored it was almost as if it had never happened, except that Sara adopted a very chilly attitude towards Stephan, apparently deciding that it had been he in the wrong and not Astoria.

Astoria thought, perhaps, that she might chock this up as another victory against Stephan, but somehow couldn't muster the previous animosity she had felt for him. Perhaps it something to do with how every time Astoria allowed herself to smile with Sara or Melissa or met with Daphne in the library, Stephan's voice whispered into her ear _two-faced, liar, coward_.

When Astoria met with Daphne in the library on the first weekend of December, both sisters were noticeably subdued.

"This is _hopeless_!" declared Daphne, stuffing aside an issue of the _Daily Prophet_ from twenty years ago with a great deal of crinkling pages.

Astoria looked up from her own paper where she'd been reading a follow-up article about the disappearance of Juno Vance.

Daphne looked stormy. Astoria knew better than to say anything. "We've been searching for months! There's no way we're ever going to find out what we're looking for. It's utterly _hopeless_!"

"Well, we've found out a bit…" offered Astoria half-heartedly, almost glad when Daphne cut her off because she couldn't even convince herself.

"We haven't found out anything," said Daphne. "Nothing of any substance, anyway. I don't know what I was thinking. There's nothing in these papers worth knowing."

Astoria fiddled with the corner of her paper, not saying anything. There really wasn't anything to say. Daphne was probably right.

"Well?" Daphne demanded. "What are you so moody about?"

"I'm not moody –" said Astoria angrily, wondering why everyone was so anxious to pick a fight all of a sudden.

"Yes you are," snapped Daphne. "You've been sulking this whole week."

Astoria frowned but bit back all the raging retorts that threatened to slip from her tongue. Daphne wouldn't understand. Daphne couldn't be reasoned with when she got into these sorts of attitudes, anyway. Astoria would probably only manage to attract the attention of Madame Pince.

Daphne leaned back against the shelf, hitting the back of her head against a protruding book. She groaned. Astoria scowled at her sister for a moment before looking back at her newspaper. She couldn't find the place she'd left off reading.

"I'm sorry," whispered Daphne suddenly.

Astoria looked up so quickly she almost cricked her neck. She was astounded. She couldn't remember Daphne ever apologizing before – let alone for something like this.

"I'm just…frustrated," Daphne continued ruefully. "There's so much I'd like to know about him and I – I don't know how I can find it out – if it's even possible. And – and realizing I might never know it's – it's so terribly…."

"I know," said Astoria and sighed. "Daphne, I – I was wondering if maybe we couldn't…." Daphne looked at her but Astoria plowed relentlessly on, figuring if Daphne wanted to play nice than at least Astoria might comply, as well.

"–If maybe we couldn't ask somebody about it, Mum, or…." Her idea dissolved into silence off her tongue; she could tell by Daphne's expression that it was a foolish one.

"Mum wouldn't understand," said Daphne flatly. "She's never really –" Daphne stopped. "I don't think she'd tell us anything, anyway. She'd probably say we were too young."

Again Astoria recognized the curiously bitter tone Daphne used when speaking about their mother. Astoria had always assumed it had been herself that hadn't gotten along perfectly well with Lyra Greengrass, that Daphne had always been their mother's favorite, but now Astoria began to wonder if maybe Daphne and herself had more in common than Astoria had always believed.

"Yeah," said Astoria. "I guess you're right. But…it wouldn't hurt to try, would it? We could…ask her over the Holiday."

Daphne shrugged. "I don't know. I guess we could try." She didn't sound very convinced.

There was silence between the sisters for a few moments. Astoria turned a page of her paper, watching an advertisement for a racing broom that had become obsolete decades ago.

"Are you alright?" said Daphne. Astoria looked up again. "I mean," Daphne blushed. "I didn't mean what I said about you sulking all week but, you know, I wasn't sure if something was bothering you –"

"No, I'm," said Astoria quickly, "…fine. I'm fine."

Daphne peered at Astoria and Astoria smothered the uneasy impression that Daphne didn't believe her.

"Alright," said Daphne finally. "But if you weren't…."

Astoria wondered what Daphne was going to say, _if you weren't you could always talk to me about it, maybe I could help, _but Daphne didn't continue so Astoria assumed she would never know.

"I guess we should clean up," said Daphne instead, standing. "I don't feel very much like researching anymore. Anyway, I have homework."

"Yeah," said Astoria, even though what little homework she had left could be easily finished on Sunday. "Me too."

* * *

Astoria quickly realized that if their mother was to be asked about their father than it would have to be Astoria to do the asking. Daphne's initial lack of enthusiasm ceased to be moved. Astoria also quickly realized that this was not to be a matter broached within a letter and began to carefully construct a way in which she might bring up her father to her mother over the Christmas holiday.

She allowed the matter to mercifully and willingly take over her mind. It was a welcome distraction from the problems that still revolved around Stephan, Sara, and her, as well as the lingering guilt she kept experiencing when keeping company with Daphne, as if she was somehow not being entirely truthful with her sister.

She wondered how she might approach her mother. She decided that she would have to be subtle and delicate, and had to admit that she was more than a little nervous about trying to hold her own against a learned diplomat like Lyra Greengrass, whose whole career – after all – centered around carefully constructed political debate.

_Hey, Mum, I was just wondering if you might tell Daphne and I about Dad – you know, the man that died when I was five and who I don't remember you mentioning anything about for my entire life? _

Astoria looked up from her breakfast mid-week to the customary rushing sound of many owls swooping into the Hall at breakfast time.

She grinned as several owls landed before her place setting, all lobbying that she might unburden them of their packages first.

Sara and Melissa looked at Astoria curiously as she reached for the first owl, a large, handsome tawny that she recognized immediately as belonging to her mother.

Astoria blushed under their scrutiny. "It's my birthday," she said in explanation, feeling curiously bashful about the fact.

Sara beamed, "Really? Happy birthday!"

"Happy birthday," echoed Melissa with a smile.

"Thanks," said Astoria, honestly wishing they wouldn't pay it so much attention, but also conscious of the blushing, tingling sensation in her chest. It was nice to experience such warm recognition. After all, last year on her birthday she, Sara, and Melissa hadn't been exactly friends, nowhere near as close as they were now, and her birthday had passed without comment.

"If I'd known I would have gotten you something," said Sara, reaching over to hug Astoria.

"Oh no," said Astoria, "It's fine, really." She returned Sara's hug and tried to convey without words that presents didn't matter, not when – but then suddenly, like poison, Stephan's voice crept again into her head: _two-faced, lying_…

Astoria pulled away from Sara sharply, pretending her mother's owl had nipped her on the finger. Sara didn't seem to notice anything strange in Astoria's behavior and excitedly settled in to watch Astoria open her packages.

Her mother's owl, sprinkled with flecks of snow from outside, impatiently lifted its leg which was bound to a scroll and a small package. Astoria unwrapped the box and found that her mother had sent her an intricate, silver pendant and a letter with birthday wishes.

She finished unwrapping her gifts and the owls, one after another, took flight and sprinkled the table with melted snow. By then it was time to leave for lessons. She rose from Ravenclaw table with Sara and Melissa.

"Christmas decorations already," observed Sara as they made their way through the halls. "Hogwarts seems to be outdoing herself."

"They'll want to impress Beauxbatons and Durmstrang," said Melissa as they passed a suit of armor who was murmuring a Christmas carol.

"Do you suppose the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students will be going home for Christmas?" said Sara, stepping over a string of garland that had been rigged near the floor to trip unwary students, clearly the work of Peeves or perhaps the Weasley twins.

"I don't know," said Astoria. "Probably. I can't imagine why they might stay."

"I'm surprised the rest of them didn't go back to their homes after they weren't chosen as champions," said Melissa. "I wonder what they do all day here. Do they take the classes with the rest of the older students, do you suppose?"

"I don't know," said Astoria, honestly wondering it herself. She wondered if it wouldn't be a bit toilsome to have had the same professors for all one's magical education, only to travel to a different school for a year to be taught by different professors, perhaps teaching different magical theory in accordance to their cultures.

Astoria was interrupted by her musings by a shout behind her. She turned to see it was Daphne, peeling away from her usual posse of Slytherin girls.

"Happy birthday," her sister said warmly as she came up to Astoria, hugging her brusquely.

"Thanks," said Astoria. Nerves erupted familiarly in her stomach, there whenever Daphne approached Astoria in the company of Astoria's friends. This time the squirming of her stomach was accompanied by Stephan's voice, unusually loud, shouting in her mind: _two-faced, lying, disloyal_ –

"I hope you have a good day," said Daphne with a smile.

"Thanks," said Astoria again, trying to disguise her discomfort as well as she could. Sara and Melissa hovered uncertainly behind Astoria. Astoria hoped Sara would have enough sense not to draw attention to herself.

"–Hello," chirped Sara.

Astoria's heart plummeted. She held her breath.

Daphne's eyes flickered to Sara, then to Astoria, then back to Sara. An unreadable expression crossed her face.

"Hello," she said primly. Sara was smiling kindly, clearly oblivious.

"Hello," murmured Melissa shyly.

"Daphne, isn't it?" said Sara.

Daphne gave a sharp, brief nod, almost a spasm of confirmation. "And you're –"

"Sara," said Sara brightly, extending her hand. Daphne looked at Sara's fingers as though she had never seen someone ask for a handshake before and didn't know quite what to do.

Astoria felt her heart pattering quickly within her chest. She wracked her brain for something to say with which to alleviate the tension that had fallen across the corridor.

Finally Daphne's arm swung outward and she touched Sara's outstretched palm marginally.

"We've met before," said Sara, "but we don't see much of each other around."

"No," mumbled Daphne in a daze, obviously shocked by Sara's nerve. "No, we don't."

Astoria opened her mouth, trying to think of something, anything to say, "I think we – we're going to be late for Charms."

"Yeah…" said Daphne. She blinked. "I've got to be getting to class, too." She looked back at Astoria and said rather jerkily, "Happy birthday again, Astoria."

"Thanks," said Astoria on her exhale of relief, watching Daphne jog to catch up to her friends. She slowly unclenched her fists at her side, realizing that her whole body had gone stiff. She tried to ease the tension from her muscles, breathing deeply.

Astoria, Sara, and Melissa continued on their way to Charms. Melissa said, "That was your sister, right?"

Astoria nodded, feeling numb, heart still hammering against her ribs. "Yeah."

Sara added happily, "She seems really nice."

* * *

Plans of asking Astoria's mother about her father over the Christmas holiday were quickly erased when news of the Yule Ball reached the older students and immediately circulated among the young students. Students in or above fourth-year were allowed to attend, which meant Daphne was staying, stubbornly and irrefutably.

"Why did they have to put an age limit on it?" said Sara drearily the morning after the news had broken out. The Great Hall was buzzing with excitement. A new level of festive air seemed to be achieved among the students and Astoria doubted very much that any of the teachers would manage to get much work done.

"I know," said Melissa, "who says second-years and third-years can't enjoy themselves at a party."

"It is a dance," objected Astoria half-heartedly. "I suppose they're encouraging people to bring dates."

"I had no idea Hogwarts had prejudices against younger students taking dates to a dance," said Sara.

"I suppose they want to discourage romantic feelings amongst children younger than fourteen," said Astoria, not feeling as if she blamed them – remembering Mark, who had come up to her one afternoon to whisper that he'd thought Stephan had gone way off his rocker and to please not hold Mark accountable for what his friend had said. After all, Mark had assured it, that wasn't at all how _he_ felt about her.

"We could just go alone," said Melissa. "There's really no need that we should bring partners."

"The teachers are probably worried about keeping us up past our bedtime," said Astoria scathingly and Sara laughed.

Daphne approached Astoria later that day to tell her she'd received a letter from their mother, answering Daphne's inquiries of staying over at Hogwarts for the holiday.

"She says you might as well stay over, as well, Tori," said Daphne. "There's no reason to bring just one of us home. Anyway, she says there's loads to do at the Ministry, something about the Jorkins' disappearance."

"Oh," said Astoria. "But there – I'm not allowed to go to the Ball. There won't be anything to do."

"Don't be silly, Tori," said Daphne, evidently not in an understanding mood – perhaps it was because her gang of giggling friends were nearby, gossiping about the Ball. "Plenty of other people are staying over. I'm sure there will be loads of children for you to play with."

Daphne pranced away, leaving Astoria frowning. Astoria did not _play_ with children.

She told Sara and Melissa that she would be staying over at Hogwarts, hardly daring to hope that one of them might be staying as well.

"Oh no," said Sara, lips puckering in sympathy. "There's no reason for me to stay because I can't go to the ball so I'll be going home."

Melissa had an older brother who was staying over but told Astoria that her parents were bringing Melissa home anyway. "I'm sorry – but I'm sure there will be others you can hang out with."

"Yes," added Sara. "And your sister will be here. You can hang out with her."

Astoria was feeling irritable and fed up with the Yule Ball when, on their way to History of Magic, the second-year Ravenclaws passed a group of second-year Slytherins.

"Going to ask your girlfriend to the Ball, Edgecombe?" sneered Livonia. Astoria held her breath, trying to calm the bundle of nerves and anger that squirmed in her stomach.

"Leave us alone, Mentang," snapped Stephan.

"I don't blame you for not wanting to take her," Livonia continued. "I shouldn't want to appear in public with a Mudblood, either."

Stephan sputtered for a moment in speechless fury.

"Leave us alone," snapped Sara, sidling up to Stephan. Astoria wondered if Sara had forgotten her feud with him in the face of a common enemy. The thought made her feel oddly annoyed.

"Aw," cooed Livonia. "Look at her, coming to her boyfriend's defense."

"Shut – up," choked Stephan.

"Nothing you say could possibly interest me," said Sara, sticking her chin in the air. "I'm going to walk away now."

"Don't you turn your back on me, Mudblood," Livonia growled.

Astoria saw Livonia's wrist twitch toward the pocket of her robe and for a horrible moment was sure Livonia was going to draw her wand on Sara's turned back. The second-years were learning about hexes in Defense class and Astoria knew things could very quickly get ugly. Before she gave herself time to think, Astoria stepped forward, heart thudding.

She wasn't quick enough to draw her own wand so she grabbed hold of Livonia's arm, instead. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," she said, words barely getting up her throat, conscious of all the eyes that had been pulled to her.

Livonia twisted violently in Astoria's grasp. "Don't – touch me – bloodtraitor," she gasped, face twisting in rage.

Astoria didn't let go, feeling her fingernails bight into Livonia's wrist. Astoria was fed up. Blood pounded in her head, drowning out the voices of Stephan – _coward, two-faced_ – and her sister's – _loyalty, family, blood_ –

"Don't you ever try that again," Astoria hissed.

"She should know better than to turn her back on her superiors," said Livonia.

Astoria could feel the retort slipping off her tongue but Stephan got there first, "Sara is the one superior to you." His face was red. Astoria wondered if he was embarrassed that he hadn't gotten to Livonia first or was angry at Astoria's interference.

Livonia's mouth opened and closed soundlessly. The Slytherins and Ravenclaws watched.

"Livonia, we're going to be late for class," said Eris is a voice that very much implied, _Livonia, you're making a fool of yourself_.

Astoria released Livonia's arm and walked away, nervous about revealing her back to her enemy, but mutually sure she had quelled Livonia – at least for today.

She joined Sara, who gave her a warm smile. Astoria felt two conflicting halves of herself raging battle within her chest but, with effort, she pushed these feelings down. There would be time, later, to deal with the questions and uncertainty that pounded against the sides of her skull. Now, however, she could allow herself to relish the sweet taste of victory, and the even sweeter feeling of a friend at her side.

Astoria smiled back.

* * *

Christmas steadily approached. Decorations sprouted up with vigor across the castle, even more dazzling than Astoria could remember them the year before. The Yule Ball continued to dominate most conversation.

Gossip sprang up about who would be taking who. Sara mused idly and completely insubstantially about asking Cedric Diggory. Viktor Krum was followed by a pack of giggling girls wherever he went in the castle. During a frigid Herbology lesson, Romilda assured anyone within hearing distance that she was going with Harry Potter to the ball, she only had left to ask him. "Poor boy's very shy. He'd never work up enough courage to ask me, himself."

The Saturday before the end of term, Astoria sat with Daphne in the library. It was difficult to concentrate because Viktor Krum was also in the library, and several girls had followed him.

"I wish he'd just ask someone already," said Daphne, shooting an ugly look through a space in the bookshelves, "That way it would throw the lot of them off the sent."

"I wonder who he'll take," mused Astoria, peering through the bookshelf, as well. "He isn't even good looking."

"People will do anything if you're famous," said Daphne, scowling. "I've heard Potter's already been asked by half the girls in the school."

Astoria smiled as Daphne pretended to gag. She looked out of the corner of her eye at her sister. "Who are you going with?" said Astoria, working to get the words up her throat. The tiers of the book shelf behind her were biting into her back.

"Theo," said Daphne promptly, in a voice that suggested _who else?_

"How did he ask you?" said Astoria, feeling awkward.

Daphne hid a smile behind the flush of her cheeks. "He, well – just asked. One day when I was walking alone back to the common room he was suddenly walking behind me and he – just asked."

"Have you kissed?" said Astoria haltingly, trying to keep her voice neutral even though, honestly, the thought of kissing Theodore Nott – whose lips were slightly pointed like a rat's – was faintly nauseating.

Both Daphne's blush deepened and smile widened. Astoria had never known Daphne to be bashful. "Yes," said Daphne. "Once or twice."

"Was it nice?" said Astoria, squirming slightly, because she wasn't entirely certain if she felt comfortable with all of this just yet. But, after all, it wasn't just idle curiosity. She would have liked to know. Kissing must be nice, if people did it all the time.

"Well, yes…" said Daphne finally. "Do you like Theo?"

Astoria was surprised. Daphne had never asked for Astoria's opinion before.

"He's – I don't know," she said tentatively. Truly the answer was a brusque and solid _no_, but she didn't think she and Daphne had developed a relation quite so open yet. "I haven't really spent much time with him."

Daphne smiled. "You'd like him when you got to know him better."

Astoria doubted it but bit her tongue. "Does – Mum know about…you know."

Daphne's eyebrows furrowed. "I'm sure she knows…I mean – she knows I'm going to the Ball, and surely she isn't so blind as to assume I'm going alone. I'm sure she'd approve of Theo, too. After all, she knows his father from work. They have the same sort of political leanings."

"Oh," said Astoria, a thought suddenly coming to her and obstructing anything else she was doing. She wondered – when she got older – what kind of a boy she might…well…and whether or not Lyra Greengrass would approve of him, whether or not – as Daphne said – their families might have the same sort of political leanings.

It was something, Astoria decided, that she really didn't want to worry about on top of everything else.

* * *

Astoria went down to the entrance hall with Sara and Melissa on the last day of term, to say good-bye before they departed back home for the Holiday. She tried not to think about the two of them on the Hogwarts express, sharing laughs and treats on their way back to London. She also tried not to think about the coming weeks while she would be the only of her friends still at Hogwarts. She had asked around and discovered that almost everyone she knew was going to go home for Christmas.

"Don't worry about it," said Sara again. "I'm sure you'll have loads of fun."

"Yes, it's always loads of fun by myself," said Astoria, but knew Sara meant well, even though the encouragement was rather irking rather than comforting.

"We'll be back before you know it," said Melissa.

"Yeah," said Astoria, not feeling convinced.

"You could try to sneak into the ball," suggested Sara with a smile, "or maybe try to get an older student to ask you."

Against her best efforts, Astoria felt a grin tug at her cheek. "The only people left without a partner are the ones that no one wants to go with."

"Which means they're probably desperate," said Sara. "I'm sure you could get them to take you."

"Oh, thank you," said Astoria. "It's good to know only someone who's desperate will take me."

"That isn't what I meant –" said Sara, but Astoria smiled to let her know she was kidding.

The carriages were departing for the Hogsmeade station so she quickly hugged Melissa and Sara good-bye, watching them leave with a sick, lonely feeling in her stomach. She gave them a final wave as they climbed into a carriage together.

Astoria turned on her heel and slowly made her way through the entrance hall, heading back toward Ravenclaw common room. Most of the older students had stayed over for the ball, so Astoria was sure the castle wasn't nearly as empty as it usually was during holidays, but it still seemed as though the corridors were oddly hollow and echoing as she walked through them by herself.

She wandered listlessly through the hallways. Daphne was busy with friends, probably gossiping about the Ball and what they were going to wear. Finally concluding there was absolutely nothing to do, Astoria headed back toward the Ravenclaw common room, thinking vaguely of finishing up the homework the teachers had assigned over the Holiday; at least then she could get it out of the way and give herself freedom for the rest of the break.

Just what she was going to do for the remaining three weeks she had no idea.

She sighed, passing strung garland and twinkling ever-frozen icicles. Brightly colored fairies fluttered near the ceiling, lighting the hallway in multicolor, flickering shadows. Astoria climbed up the Ravenclaw tower, barely breaking a sweat now that she had gotten used to climbing the stairs every day. She let the ring of the Eagle knocker fall against the door and answered the Eagle's riddle glumly.

She pushed open the door with her shoulder, looked up lest she trip over the step, and froze.

Their eyes met over the top of his book, across the common room. Astoria wasn't sure, but she thought she saw Stephan Edgecombe's cheeks flush slightly behind the cover of the pages, whether with anger or embarrassment, Astoria didn't know.

The rest of the common room was empty, save for the crackling fire in the shining black stove. The rest of the older students must have been elsewhere in the castle and the rest of the younger students gone home.

She felt her lips pull downward into a scowl. It was going to be a very long three weeks.

* * *

Author's Note: Yes, I am aware that the actual celebration of the Twelve Days of Christmas doesn't happen until after the 25th. I sorely lack inspiration when it comes to chapter names.

Next chapter: Almost finished with it; hopefully it won't be any more than two weeks before I get it up, maybe even sooner.

In the meantime, please review :)


	12. Humble Pie

Chapter Twelve – Humble Pie:

Astoria had thought, given the lack of schoolwork, that Daphne would have more free time over the Holiday with which to spend with Astoria in the library. She was mistaken however when, during the week leading up to the Yule Ball, Daphne was interested in little else then spending time with her friends.

It turned out that Stephan Edgecombe really was the only student Astoria's age who had remained in the castle over Christmas. Astoria wondered why he had, but then recalled that he had an older sister, Marietta, who would no doubt be going to the ball. As such, Astoria spent the next week sulking in the library by herself and avoiding Stephan at all costs.

Christmas morning dawned bright and cold, and Astoria awoke in her empty dormitory to find a pile of gifts at the base of her bed. She spent several enjoyable but noticeably silent moments in opening and admiring the presents her mother, aunt, and grandparents had sent her, and then bundled into several sweaters to go down to breakfast.

The Great Hall was swarming with students. Twelve towering and sparkling Christmas trees stood by the walls and streamers in silver and gold were looped across the ceiling. There was a definite aura of frenzied excitement about the place. Teachers were sitting at the Staff Table, grinning but evidently nervous about the coming night, and watching the students carefully lest they do something to compromise the coming ball.

Astoria was reminded forcefully, with a muffled pang of frustration in her stomach, of the Ministry parties her mother would throw on occasion before Astoria and Daphne had been at Hogwarts. It was always the rule that Daphne and Astoria were to be in bed before the guests arrived and not allow themselves to be seen.

In one of the rare occasions of disregarding their mother's wishes, Daphne and Astoria had used to creep to the top of the stairs and listen to the soft strains of music and babbling voices in the drawing room. Sometimes they could even convince their pale and wrinkled house-elf, Brownie, to bring them a few morsels of food, she bobbing apologetically about the "poor, little mistresses" while they licked their fingers.

Here was yet another elegant and alluring party that Astoria was not allowed to go to. She thought idly of Sara's teasing about sneaking down to the Ball. Astoria knew it was ridiculous; after all, there wouldn't be any way to sneak passed the teachers, and if she did get in, the older students would recognize her as not belonging, and there wouldn't be anyone for Astoria to hang out with – and, besides, she hadn't anything to wear.

Astoria sighed. Daphne approached from Slytherin table and gave Astoria a hug.

"Happy Christmas," she said cheerily, evidently anticipation of the Ball making her exceptionally good-hearted.

"Happy Christmas," said Astoria, trying to muster as much liveliness as Daphne exhibited. Suddenly she wished very much that Daphne hadn't come over, that she had stayed happily over at Slytherin table with her friends, gossiping about the Yule Ball.

Astoria had, of course, been jealous of Daphne before. She had been jealous of Daphne growing up, jealous of the relationship she shared with their mother, jealous when Daphne had gone away to Hogwarts and left Astoria alone for two years, jealous of Daphne's beauty, of her shining blond hair, dazzling smile, and because she had started wearing a brassiere when she was eleven and Astoria had only started wearing one this year. And she'd just turned thirteen.

But now Astoria felt a whole new level of jealousy toward Daphne. She was jealous that Daphne was older, old enough to have a boyfriend, old enough to go to the Yule Ball. That Daphne got to go to a party that night, to have fun on Christmas, to dance with her boyfriend, perhaps be kissed beneath the mistletoe, to dress up and laugh with friends and enjoy the Holiday and –

And Astoria would be up in her dormitory, reading or trying to fall asleep.

It took all her will not to snap at Daphne to leave her alone.

"What did Mum send you?" said Daphne. They discussed their Christmas presents for a moment and then exchanged the gifts they had ordered by owl for one another. Astoria could tell Daphne wanted to discuss the Yule Ball, but Astoria firmly guided the conversation away from it.

Finally – it had seemed like forever – Daphne darted away again to giggle with Tracey Davis and Sophie Roper and Astoria left the Great Hall, thinking despondently of writing letters to Sara and Melissa, wishing them a Happy Christmas.

The day passed slowly. Astoria yearned so much to be included in the festivities of the Ball that she almost persuaded herself to convince Daphne into letting her into her Slytherin dormitory, so that Astoria could help Daphne dress. But, knowing Daphne would object – after all, the secrecy of the House common room locations was imperative – Astoria held her tongue.

She contented herself with blinking away a few hot tears and when the time of the Yule Ball approached, she sat in the corner of the common room, watching the older students get ready, the girls fixing their hair, the boys nervous pulling at their ties, students pairing with their dates, and leaving in bunches to the Great Hall.

Wrestling with her desire to get even a peak of the party, finally Astoria decided that she wouldn't be directly breaking any rules if she should sneak down to the entrance hall and briefly look in, just to see if the rumors of Dumbledore booking the Weird Sisters were true, to find out who the Champions were taking as their partners, to see how Daphne looked in her dress robes.

As soon as Astoria had decided this she'd snapped shut her book and hopped up her chair as if this had been her intention all along. She tried to look unassuming as she passed the older students, hoping they might think she only planned to go for a stroll down the corridors. As soon as the door had shut behind her, she dashed down the stairs, heart leaping in excitement, almost as if she had discovered she was going to the Ball, not only briefly glancing in.

Her heart continued to patter as she moved through the hallways, no longer running as she frequently passed other students on their way to the Great Hall. Astoria felt very conspicuous walking amongst the older students, them in their brightly colored dress robes while she was still wearing her plain, black school uniform with a sweater pulled over her head.

Sounds of light, instrumental music and many babbling voices rose to meet her as she drew closer to the Great Hall. She came to a stop atop the great, marble stairwell that led into the entrance hall, gasp rising to her lips.

The entrance hall had been transformed. Everlasting icicles hung sparkling from the ceiling. Garland in red, green, and gold were strung from the walls. Hedges sprung from the cobblestone floor, forming a twisting, elegant imitation of a garden. Hogwarts students speckled the floor. Professor McGonagall and Mr. Filch stood at the doorway of the Great Hall, evidently checking students before they were admitted.

Astoria's heart sunk. There was clearly no way in, then. Although – of course – she'd never intended to try. Really.

Astoria looked for her sister but couldn't see Daphne among the other students, some waiting for dates from different Houses, or chatting with friends before going in. She wondered if her sister had already gone into the Hall, or was running late from the Slytherin dungeons. Anyway, Daphne would no doubt be too absorbed with Theodore Nott to take note of Astoria. Daphne would probably be irked that Astoria had shown up.

Astoria took a seat quietly in a dark corner at the top of the stairs and tried to content herlself with watching the passing couples. She recognized Fleur Delacour with Roger Davies, Ravenclaw Quidditch caption. She searched for the other champions and found Cedric Diggory with Cho Chang, Seeker for the Ravenclaw team. Harry Potter was standing near the corner, looking nervous and small standing next to Cedric – who looked very attractive in a high-collared set of black robes. Potter had come with a dark, pretty girl who Astoria didn't know. Astoria also found Viktor Krum, looking happier and rather handsomer than she'd ever seen him before, holding out his arm to a very pretty girl that Astoria also didn't know.

Astoria sighed again, not managing to stifle the painful yearning in her chest, wondering what it would feel like to be wearing her own set of flowing dress robes, on the arm of a handsome, dashing young man, flutters of excitement, nerves, and anticipation –

"Miss Greengrass," said a snide voice behind her.

Astoria jumped, leaping to her feet and whirling around. She found herself faced with a grim and looming Professor Snape, yellow, greasy, and unpleasant as ever.

"What," he sneered, "may I ask, are you doing here?"

Astoria felt her cheeks flush. She immediately realized that she very much hoped no one would notice she and Professor Snape. She wouldn't want anyone to think she'd been trying to sneak in. "I was – I mean – I was only watching…."

"No student younger than fourth year are to be admitted to the Ball, Miss Greengrass," said Snape.

"I know," said Astoria, stomach twisting, cheeks pulsing with heat. She said again, quietly, "I was only watching."

"I suggest you go up to bed, Miss Greengrass," said Snape, and added, "Where you belong."

Astoria hastily made her retreat, apologizing profusely, saying all the right things, anxious to get out from under Snape's eyes, but inwardly seething at his interference. Astoria hadn't been hurting anything, just watching the older students having fun. She didn't see why Snape had had to step in. She wondered if it made Professor Snape irritable, to see so many others having a good time.

Strains of instrumental music followed her up the stairs as Astoria wandered glumly back to Ravenclaw common room. She may have been at odds with the world but Astoria somehow found it in her to hope Daphne, at least, might have a good time.

When she'd reached the Ravenclaw tower, answered the riddle, and stepped inside the common room, she discovered that Stephan, once again, was sitting before the stove. He looked up as she entered.

Their eyes met and Astoria scowled at him for good measure. She began to walk toward the stairway leading to the dormitories when a voice unexpectedly called her back.

"Were the Weird Sisters there?"

Astoria turned on her heel. "What?" she snapped. Stephan's blush gave him away. Then it had, in fact, been he who had spoken.

"Where they –" he babbled for a moment incoherently. "I mean – I'd heard – I was only wondering – never seen them in concert…."

Astoria felt as though the hinge on her jaw had been broken. She couldn't seem to close it. "I – erm – no. I mean, I didn't see."

"Oh," said Stephan, fiddling with the pages of the book he had been reading, fingering them, flipping them back and forth, shutting the cover. He cleared his throat. "Erm – goodnight, then."

"Yes," Astoria echoed, too amazed to wonder – ponder what on earth Stephan was doing, what he might be planning, whether or not this was some sort of twisted trap. "Goodnight."

She turned back around and marched up the stairs, hearing the door snap shut behind her. Her head was whirling. Stephan wasn't supposed to like her. _She_ certainly didn't like _him_. Then what – what on earth had that been? What on earth had possessed him to suddenly start up a – to suddenly seem as if he'd wanted to make a _casual conversation_….

Astoria honestly didn't know what to make of it.

* * *

Astoria raced down to the library as soon as she had woken and gotten dressed the next morning. Daphne and she had made plans over the week to meet there on Saturday, to discuss the Yule Ball and hopefully make some headway in their search for information about their father.

Astoria felt as if she was about to burst from enthusiasm. She was desperate to spend the day in human company, having spent so much of her time alone or with books. Besides, she wanted to know what had happened the night before.

Much to Astoria's chagrin, Daphne didn't wander into the library until half passed ten, looking sleepy and munching on a piece of toast.

"Hello," said Astoria brightly, sitting up and laying aside her book. "How was last night?"

Daphne smiled wryly. "Certainly don't waste much time, do you?"

Astoria shook her head. "Nope. How was last night? Were the Weird Sisters there? Did you dance? How was the food?"

Daphne laughed. "Brilliant, yes, yes, and wonderful." She and Astoria walked toward their usual isle. Once again they were the only ones in the library. Madame Pince eyed them from her desk but seemed somewhat less suspicious than usual. Perhaps she was getting used to them.

"Well?" said Astoria impatiently. "Tell me! What happened?"

"_Nothing_ happened," said Daphne. "It was just a great night, alright? There was dancing and food and the Weird Sisters played all my favorite songs."

"And…well," Astoria fought a blush from climbing up her cheeks, "how was your date?"

Daphne smiled crookedly. "Theo was fine. He even danced with me, even though he'd said he wouldn't."

Astoria smiled, still trying to erase the unpleasant picture of imagining Theodore Nott dancing, but tried to be happy on her sister's account.

"Who did all the champions go with?" asked Astoria. "I saw Diggory with Chang and Fleur with Davies but I didn't know who Potter and Krum were with."

"You saw…?" said Daphne, eyebrows furrowing.

Astoria blushed. "I mean – I just came down to peak, Daphne."

Daphne's rose her eyebrows and smiled but didn't say anything. "Potter went with one of the Patil twins, I don't know which one."

"Oh," said Astoria, placing the name. One of the Patil twins, Padma, was a Ravenclaw fourth year, the other was a Gryffindor.

"And Krum," said Daphne, frowning. "Well, Krum went with Granger, which was utterly outrageous. She's not even pretty."

"What?" said Astoria. "Hermione Granger? Harry Potter's friend? But that wasn't – that couldn't have been _her_!" Astoria was astounded. The girl she had seen Krum with had looked nothing like Hermione Granger, the same girl who had cornered Astoria, Sara, and Melissa in the entrance hall with that ridiculous spiel on Elf Rights.

Daphne nodded. "It was her. I don't know what he sees in her. She's a complete bore –"

"And she's Mug – ugly." Astoria fumbled for a moment with her voice, slurring the two words together. She couldn't believe – but that hadn't been what she'd meant to say at all. The gossip had entirely and abruptly lost its allure.

Daphne didn't seem to notice anything strange in Astoria's behavior, but continued to say, "Krum must have brought her to try to get information on Potter. There's no other reason why an international Quidditch star like him might want to be seen with a horrible little bookworm like her."

Astoria felt deflated and shaky, vaguely sick. She'd been about to say _but she's Muggle-born_. Yes, Hermione Granger was Muggle-born. What did it matter that she was Muggle-born? For all Astoria knew, Viktor Krum could be Muggle-born. It didn't matter – wasn't supposed to matter.

She thought that she had gotten over it all. She thought that she had accepted Muggle-borns through Sara, that she had ceased to categorize them as lesser beings, that she had…. It had only been a slip of the tongue. Astoria had been encouraged into a certain mindset by the presence of her sister.

Astoria hadn't meant it. She _couldn't_ have meant it.

But perhaps she had only fallen for her own con, that she had put on such a convincing face for Sara that she had ever convinced herself. Perhaps Sara was no more to Astoria that something she liked to play with when it suited her fancy, something that amused her, something Astoria enjoyed bossing around.

Perhaps Astoria really wasn't any better than what Stephan Edgecombe thought she was.

* * *

That evening Astoria sat reading in the Ravenclaw common room in front of the stove. Warm flames crackled in the hearth. The floor to ceiling windows that stretched across the walls let in peaceful, clear black light of the evening. She had managed to get hold of a good chair, considering they were usually snatched by the older students. Despite the cozy and sleepy atmosphere, Astoria felt restless and uncomfortable.

She re-read a page in her History of Magic text book for the third time, trying to absorb some of the information. Her mind refused to allow herself to concentrate. Her thoughts were constantly flitting from one subject to another.

Louder and more insistent than ever, Stephan Edgecombe's voice rose in her head: _Liar, biased, two-faced, traitor! _

Someone cleared their throat.

Without understanding a word she read, Astoria turned to the next page, feeling the thin paper beneath her fingers and remembering what Daphne had told her. Someday Astoria would have to choose. Someday it might matter, might matter a great deal.

"Erm – hello…Greengrass? Astoria?"

Astoria looked up sharply and was so shocked she almost dropped her book. It was Stephan, standing a few feet away from her and twisting his fingers in front of his chest.

There was no one else to be seen in the dormitory so there was no mistake that Stephan was addressing her.

"Erm…yes?" said Astoria cautiously, wondering what Stephan could possibly have to say to her, whether or not he was going to insult her again, if – perhaps – he would take advantage of their solitude to take out his wand. Astoria kept her heavy book in her hand at ready, just in case.

Stephan opened and closed his mouth several times. He looked at the fraying carpet beneath his trainers. "Erm…I…I was just wondering…."

Astoria had a strong desire to snap _well then, spit it out_ but she held her tongue. She noticed that Stephan was holding a box and a folded board under his arm.

"If you weren't busy…" continued Stephan helplessly. He scuffed his foot against the carpet. "I brought –" he fumbled with the box under his arm. "I mean, if you play…." The board slipped from under his arm and landed at his feet, spreading to reveal familiar checkered squares in black and white.

The shock of what Stephan was suggesting hit Astoria like a Bludger to the stomach. Her mouth fell open. "Oh, I…." She hadn't a clue what to say, to think, to do.

Stephan Edgecombe was asking her to play chess.

She – Astoria Greengrass – Stephan Edgecombe was asking _her_ to play chess.

"I – yes – of course I play," said Astoria stupidly.

Stephan looked up. His eyes brushed fleetingly over hers but then looked away again. Apparently there was something very interesting in the corner of the ceiling.

"I wasn't sure – I mean – of course, if you're busy," stammered Stephan, going red.

Astoria paused. This didn't make sense. Surely he was planning something, was somehow setting her up, trying to make her feel comfortable. "I suppose you haven't anything better to do," she said scathingly.

"No," said Stephan quickly, eyes widening so that Astoria thought he looked almost innocent. "That wasn't it at all! I mean – certainly, I'm bored. It's not nearly as much fun being here over the Holiday as I'd thought it would be, but –" he was rambling.

Astoria frowned, but couldn't help but remember the evening before, when Stephan had seemed as if he'd been trying to be friendly.

"And – only if you'd wanted to of course," Stephan continued, "but I was wondering if maybe you'd like to…to play."

Astoria hesitated. She thought of all the nasty things Stephan had ever said to her. She thought of all the things she had said to him. She thought about the evening before, when he seemed as if he'd been trying to be genuinely polite. She thought of the past week, of reading by herself, wandering the corridors by herself, and she thought of the next, toiling, lonely two weeks before Sara and Melissa would return.

She felt her lips form the words before she had rightly made up her mind. "I…I guess."

The corner of Stephan's lip cricked, as if he was fighting down a smile. His fingers stopped twisting in front of his chest and his arms dropped in relief. "Brilliant," he said, and dropped to collect the board from the floor. "Should we…there's a table right over here."

Stephan sounded nervous and awkward and almost agonizingly formal. Astoria rose to follow him to a table by the wall, not taking any pains to put him at ease. After all, she wasn't willing to put her guard down yet.

Astoria excused herself to retrieve her own chess set from her dormitory. She's received it for her ninth birthday and had by now developed into a well enough player that her pieces had ceased to shout her advice while she was trying to decide where to move.

She returned to the common room to find Stephan had set up the chess board.

"You can be white," he said quickly as she came through the door. He seemed very anxious to please her.

Astoria wordlessly dug out a black and white pawn, closing her fists around them and held them out for Stephan to choose. Even though Stephan meant to be gracious, Astoria wasn't about to take any of his favors.

Stephan pointed to her right fist. She opened it to reveal the white pawn.

"I really don't mind if…" Stephan began.

Astoria cut him off, "You chose it, fair and square."

They set up their pieces. Stephan's set of players were worn, their smooth marble coats smudged with fingerprints. Astoria's looked similar. Her mother had offered to buy her a new set but Astoria had refused. She'd established a kind of mutual trust among her players, something she doubted her mother, as a Slytherin, would understand.

Stephan still seemed unwilling to meet Astoria's eyes. He studied the chessboard instead; Astoria stared carefully at his bowed head.

"Pawn to d-four," said Stephan, piece obeying the sound of his voice and sliding across the board.

"Pawn to d-five," said Astoria, and so the game began.

Stephan seemed to be a good player. He dodged Astoria's attacks deftly but seemed to be mostly playing the defensive, almost as if he refused to add any of his own counterattacks. Astoria wondered if perhaps he was going easy on her. The thought rankled discontentedly; Astoria didn't want to be _permitted_ to win.

She tried to goad him into an attack by threatening his queen. At one point she even left her knight wide open for the taking. It was a foolish move but Stephan didn't take it and Astoria refused to believe it was because he hadn't noticed it, as he insisted when Astoria (rather scornfully) pointed it out to him.

As the game progressed Astoria grew more and more irritated with Stephan's passive aggressiveness. When playing chess Astoria enjoyed to win straight out or to play a good game, even if that game ended in a loss. She had had a difficult time finding a partner at Hogwarts. Many of the older students didn't want to play with a second-year. Daphne didn't enjoy the game. Astoria had attempted to teach Melissa and Sara; Melissa was terrible and kept forgetting the rules; Sara was decent but grew bored while Astoria was puzzling out her next move.

What truly irked Astoria was that Stephan appeared to have the makings of a good partner, if only she might make him play her to his best ability. As it was, she managed to get up on him by a bishop and a pawn and backed him into a corner quickly after she'd managed to get around his defense.

"Check," she announced exasperatedly after Stephan completely missed a very obvious avenue of escape.

"Oh, good move," he said, decidedly too cheerily. Astoria scowled at him but he missed it because he was making a show of studying her position.

"You could have stopped me if you'd moved your bishop," Astoria snapped.

"Oh," said Stephan, face falling in a rather shoddy show of theatrics. "Oh yeah." His fingers flickered briefly over his knight, one of the pieces he could use to block Astoria's attack.

Astoria couldn't restrain herself, "If you don't block it with your rook you'll be in check mate the next move."

"Oh," said Stephan again, so unconvincingly that Astoria was certain he had known it all along. Stephan half-heartedly blocked the check with his rook, thereby threatening Astoria's queen.

She thought only briefly of moving her queen out of harm's way. She even saw a comparatively brilliant move that she could take with which to counter him. But then another thought came to her. She could, of course, give Stephan a bit of his own medicine. Although doing so would mean losing purposefully, something Astoria had never done before, something Astoria honestly could never conceive doing.

She tried to console herself with the thought that this really hadn't been a real game to begin with. After all, it shouldn't hurt her pride very much to concede a loss in a situation like this, when she was trying to prove a point….

But it did hurt. It hurt a lot. Astoria realized, with a clarity she never had before, just how much she truly disliked losing.

Before she could think about it any further she gritted her teeth and yanked her hand away from her queen and over to her knight, allowing Stephan a clear avenue for victory. She moved her knight and stared at Stephan, daring him to do as she'd commanded.

Stephan's hand flew immediately to a pawn.

"Don't!" Astoria snapped.

Stephan looked up. For the first time their eyes met over the board. Astoria could feel herself frowning. Heat rushed to her cheeks.

"Take my queen," Astoria growled, finding Stephan's look of feigned confusion to be decidedly too much.

Stephan's eyes widened. He looked at the board and then back at Astoria. "I didn't notice," he said.

"Don't treat me like an idiot," Astoria snapped. "Of course you did."

Stephan's cheeks darkened. "But, you'll…."

"Lose, I know!" Astoria said poisonously. "It isn't possible that I could win without my queen, even with the way you've been playing."

"Did you want to redo…" said Stephan.

"How old do you think I am? Five?" Astoria demanded. "Of course I don't want to take it back!"

"We could start a new game –"

"Stop treating me like an idiot!" Astoria leap to her feet. Her chess pieces craned their necks to stare at her. Astoria felt anger pulse through her veins. She remembered every cruel thing Stephan had ever said to her, remembering pointedly the dislike she had felt for him all along. She was stupid for ever agreeing to this game.

"I haven't been –" said Stephan, anger of his own simmering in his eyes.

"You've been letting me win for the whole game!" Astoria shouted. "You've been playing with me like I'm an ignorant little girl!"

"I – I didn't want to –" stammered Stephan.

"Didn't want to, _what_? Didn't want to beat me? Well, I'll have you know that I'm perfectly capable of beating you without _your_ help!"

"I was just trying to be nice!" Stephan shouted, standing from his chair, hitting the table so that the chess pieces tottered. His queen steadied herself with her sword.

"_Nice_!" Astoria shrieked, "When have you ever been nice to me, Edgecombe? When have you ever cared about being nice?"

"I – I just," Stephan's face was turning red, as if he was about to spontaneously implode. "I wanted to – I mean, what happened a few days ago – I guess I…."

Astoria glared at him, hardly understanding the garble of words spilling from his mouth. She realized she had never been more disinterested in what someone had to say to her in her entire life.

"What are you playing at, Edgecombe?" she hissed. "What makes you think I might possibly believe you –"

"I was trying to apologize, alright!" Stephan bellowed, voice rebounding off the domed ceiling, hitting the glass of the arched windows, slapping Astoria in the face and rendering her mute. Stephan's face was screwed up and red. His chest heaved.

Astoria opened her mouth and shouted, "You're doing a bloody awful of job of it then!"

She was appalled to feel her eyes sting with tears. She turned on her heel so that Stephan wouldn't see. Taking a few, jerking steps away from him. Her throat was throbbing, stopping her voice was coming out her lips.

She tried to catch her breath, ease the pounding tension in her head, try to get a hold on herself. She was suddenly acutely glad that they were the only two in the Ravenclaw common room. She wondered if anyone else had heard them shouting.

"Astoria –" said Stephan haltingly from behind her. Astoria realized it was one of the few times he had called her by her first name. She remembered he had called her it already, earlier when he'd been trying to attract her attention from her book. "Listen –"

Astoria didn't turn around. She pressed her teeth together hard.

"I'm – I'm sorry about…I didn't realize…."

Stephan paused, evidently expecting Astoria to say something. When she didn't he continued awkwardly, "I shouldn't have – I guess I've treated you pretty rotten and I – I'm sorry, alright? I realize now…after you stopped Mentang from –" Astoria realized he was referencing the incident with the Slytherin girls and Sara from a few weeks ago.

Almost unconsciously she turned back around. Stephan's face was still red. His eyes searched for hers and she allowed her own to meet his. He looked partly relieved to find himself once again speaking to her face.

"I –" he continued. "Sara was right. You – you're…I mean, I shouldn't have said a lot of what I said to you. It wasn't true."

Astoria waited for Stephan to go on, but it appeared as though he had reached the end of his apology. Astoria felt something in her chest loosen.

"Oh," she said, aware that she had to say _something_. "Oh – I'm glad you… I mean, I guess I'm sorry as well. I shouldn't have – I – erm – thank you."

Stephan's face had turned a flaming red. Astoria felt heat rush to her own cheeks. The stove in the center of the room flickered comfortingly. The remaining pieces on the chess board shifted restlessly, evidently eager to get on with the game. Stephan's rook was running her hand over the edge of her sword.

"So – erm – alright?" said Stephan at last, jutting his hand out for Astoria to take in a horridly forced show of formalities.

Astoria stared at his palm, extended toward her chest. She heard Stephan's voice echoing in her head, by now so familiar she could trace the exact progression of every syllable as they drifted through her mind: _liar, two-faced_ –

She gulped and stuck out her arm, meeting Stephan's hand in the middle. "Alright," she said.

Their fingers closed around each other's fists briefly.

"So," said Stephan hesitantly, arm swinging back to his side. "Would you…care to start a new game?"

"Only if you promise not to let me win," said Astoria carefully.

"Only if you promise the same thing," said Stephan, with a crook of his upper lip which was most definitely the beginning of a smile.

Astoria scuffed her toe against the carpet and tried to force her lips into a smile to match Stephan's. "Fair enough."


End file.
